The Sheltered
by grim grace
Summary: Sequel to 'The Anomaly'. Its been nineteen months since Damon's seen Emma Hamilton. So when she returns, a changed drifter, captive in the hands of a vindictive Katherine Pierce, what's a scorned vampire to do? D/OC, S/E
1. The Original

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

Nb: 'Tara' is pronounced 'Tera.'

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

"_Alpha team, do you copy? Hooter, this is Nightbird—come in, Hooter?" _

There was a crackle of electricity as the message burst to life in the receiver in my back pocket. Lowering the weapon I was holding, I reached a stoic hand into my pocket and pulled it out.

"Connor, if you _ever _call me Hooter again, I will shoot you in the face." I threatened into the talkie.

There was a moment's pause.

"_Right you are, Em. That's a negatory on the code names. What's your sitch?" _

I caught the eye of the woman next to me, who was shaking her head but hadn't quite managed to conceal the smile on her face. If there was anyone who could lighten a situation like this, it was Connor—and despite his absolutely unprofessional and childlike approach to the job we had to do, he made it a little more bearable.

Sides, we loved him, so who are we to judge.

"Just outside the front entrance, Con," my companion, Tara, said into the mouth piece. Her curly brown hair was tied back out of her face (an idea I really should have picked up after the years). My own blonde locks fell unceremoniously into my face, and while Tara spoke, I brushed them away for the thousandth time. "What's up with Lachie and Alex?"

"_Checking in right now, Tarezza, hold on a sec. Don't do anything til I've spoken to the boss man." _

The com line went silent, and for a moment, Tara and I relaxed. "God, he's a tosser." I laughed quietly. Tara grinned at me, nodding her head. While we waited for a response, Tara looked to her gun in her hands. Rechecking the locking mechanism, she pulled back on the top of the gun and let it slide back into place. "Locked and loaded, Ems." She verified with a smile.

I did the same with my own gun and looked back to her. "Clichéd and plagiarised, Tars," I grinned. "I live with the foremost movie dork on the entire planet," I continued. "You can't be slipping movie quotes by me."

She rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of your lovely little roommate," she said with a smile. "What's the plan this evening? You and Lachie hanging out, or are you going to hang with Cam?"

I frowned, sighing slightly. Given the option, I would probably end up hanging with Lachie tonight, if everything this afternoon went to plan. I never minded hanging with Cam, ever. He was still my best friend, even after everything that had happened last year.

"Cam wants to watch Supernatural with me tonight." I said with a laugh, idly checking the com to make sure it was still ready to go. It would do no one any good if we'd messed up the line of communication.

Tara let out a breezy, yet quiet laugh. "Oh, because you don't get enough hunting done in the day?"

I rolled my eyes. "Have you ever seen that show? It's hilarious."

Tara shrugged. "Hey, don't even think about lying, Hamilton," she warned me. "I know that if you had the chance, you'd get your hunt on with Sam and Dean."

I frowned. "Don't call it hunting," I said quickly. "We're not hunters. We're just..."

"Mercenaries?"

"Working." I said quickly. "We're protecting people."

"_Back online, Hooter. You're good to go." _

Tara let out a soft laugh, moving forward to hover on the other side of the door. I held back a growl as I lifted the com to my mouth. "Connor, I _swear_ to god—"

"Sorry, Ems, can't hear you." Connor interrupted. "Must be a malfunction with the coms."

"Connor! Don't you _dare._"

"You two," we heard another voice on the com, one that made both Connor and I quiet instantly. "Stop being stupid and focus."

I swallowed and nodded, knowing that getting Alex upset would be the only way to make me certainly miss Supernatural tonight. Or hanging out with Lachie. And that would make this entire thing stupid.

"Are we kicking it in or creeping in, Lexi?" Tara asked the com, when Connor and I fell silent. I could practically see Alex's angry glare at the feminine nickname Tara'd given him.

"Creeping in," Alex ordered over the com. "We're taking this bastards by surprise."

**.:.**

_TO: Me! ()_

_FROM: LACREEP ()_

_SUBJECT: Re: re: ?_

_Emma. _

_I thought you trusted me. Whatever, I'm done with you. I've spent too long of my life trying to clean your messes and I'm done with it. Don't come back from wherever you've run, because I will kill you. _

_Don't attempt to contact me again. _

_D. S_

**.:.**

The Fourth Initiative was created by my granddad.

His name was Roger Hamilton, and he met my grandmother in 1948. My dad, Peter, was born soon afterwards, but only a few years before my grandma, Bela, was murdered by a vampire.

It was dramatic and lame and sounded like a bad sci fi plot line (like those stupid Twilight books and all the vampire television shows that made me want to stick my thumbs in my eyes). But I wasn't all that interested in the Fourth.

Lachie had taken me away from Mystic falls almost nineteen months ago, now. I'd kicked and screamed and protested for the first three months, and moved into an apartment with Cameron and Lily in the fourth month. For the rest, I'd taken it as it came. Lachlan finally explained everything, introducing me to Alex, and Tara and Connor. I met Lachie's dad the in my fifth month, and by the sixth, I was a fully fledged member of the Fourth Initiative.

Whatever that meant with me, or with Lachie, or with anyone else, the most important thing was that it had been nineteen months since I'd heard anything to do with Damon Salvatore.

Except for that cuttingly painful email that he'd sent me three days after I'd gone.

A day didn't go by that I didn't think about him.

And yeah, it was lame, and cliché and beyond super embarrassing, but it was true. I missed him like a crazy person.

I got home grumpy and covered in blood. I'd been thinking about Damon again, and the email that I still hadn't deleted from my inbox. I didn't try to talk to him again, but in all honesty, did I deserve it? In his opinion, I'd deserved him.

Because of the stupid guardian focused thoughts, I'd ended up turning Lachie down on the offer to hang out. Lily, seeing me arrive home, lifted her eyebrows.

"Tell me where you work?"

Because of the secrecy clause that Alex and Lachlan had finally gotten around to discussing with me, after they thought I was calmed about the whole kidnapping thing, I was entirely sure of what I could and couldn't say to my roommates.

Unfortunately, I'd already told her that I was already involved with the government cause of Damon, so I had to fabricate a story from there.

"It's a temping job," I said to her casually, as I snatched the spaghetti she'd clearly already cooked. "Can I have some of this?"

Lily ignored the question.

"Temping?" She instead echoed, her face scrunching up in disbelief. "You can barely even hen peck at the keyboard without looking."

I frowned, and pushed a third of the leftover spaghetti onto my plate, even though I knew I wouldn't east most of it.

I returned to the kitchen, leaving some food on the pan for Cam when he finally decided to make an appearance, and walking back to the kitchen. I looked around the kitchen sink—at a bunch of pots and pans that hadn't been cleaned—with blackened bottoms. They smelt fairly ripe as well. I hadn't noticed them until that point because I had been on the other side of the kitchen fry the bacon.

"Hey Lils," I called, turning and walking towards her. As I exited the kitchen, I took note of her flour-covered apron hanging from a hook on the wall. "Please tell me you didn't attempt to cook again…" I began.

Lily's expression proved that that was exactly what she had been doing. "Well," She explained indignantly, "Spence came over yesterday and she showed me this wonderful recipe for her cupcakes. And you used to love those cupcakes when you were little and I figured I could surprise you and Cam, if I can work it properly."

It was the same every time. Whenever Spence (Lily's posh boyfriend who lived in a penthouse and cooked like a legend) came over, or any other friend of hers, Lily would once again attempt to cook. Her attempts in the past varied from messy to disastrous. The worst problem we had was when she set fire to the microwave, about three weeks after I dropped out of school.

The Firemen that called, telling me that my home was on fire very nearly gave me a heart attack, and by the time I had arrived, it had spread through the kitchen.

The result was a blackened and charred grill that left our kitchen in pieces. No one was hurt though, and Lily evacuating as soon as she saw smoke, with her recipe in one hand, and the half created mess in the other.

We got the kitchen refurbished, however. Now it was one of those modern kitchens. The ones that every single person in the room says they love, but secretly thinks, 'this is a ridiculously cold kitchen.'

Personally, I missed the old room.

Still, my roommate didn't learn, and her flour covered state seemed to be the result of this battle between Lily and the Spatula.

"It's kind of fun,"

I looked up to see Cam entering the room.

As usual, he was clothed in his Soccer uniform. He was in Twelfth grade now, (where I would have been if I hadn't dropped out) but that didn't seem to stop him wanting to beat every single other rugby player in the United States. He walked in, the uniform clean, which meant that he was probably about to head out to a practice or a game. His hair was the same colour as mine had been, a brown, dark red, but his was wet—assuredly from a shower he'd just had

"Hi, Cam…" I said, with emphasis on the '_hi_,' that he skipped.

"Sup, Spaz?"

…Well, it is a greeting, I guess.

I quickly fetched the saucepan again, rolling my eyes at him, but not giving him any more of a response. "Pasta?" I offered him.

He grinned as he sat at the table.

"Forget the food, darling," Lily said, after stuffing her own food into her mouth. "What are _you_ doing, _temping_ for the government_?"_

"They happen to think that I am particularly skilled." I said indignantly, moving around the table to serve Cameron.

"They'd be the only ones," he snorted, as he took his pasta and began to smother it with cheese.

I rolled my eyes again.

"Nah," Cam continued, now with a full mouth. "You know what I reckon it is, Lil?" he said. "I reckon the government brainwashed her—it's keeping an eye on her because she's getting close to exposing their covered up secrets."

Instead of hinting that Cam was closer than any other guess so far, I glowered at him. Lils, too, waved her hand, brushing the comment away.

"Don't be stupid, Cameron." She scolded him. "And don't talk with your mouth full."

"I'm just saying!" Cam said, swallowing his mouthful. "With all the conspiracy stuff she's got in her head, the only way she'd work for the government is if she's been brainwashed—or she's doing some sort of top secret experiment for them."

I flinched.

"No." Lils said, shaking her head. "She wouldn't lie to us, would you Ems?"

The phone call couldn't have come at a better time. Without looking at either of them I shook my head and muttered: "Course not," before pulling the phone from my pocket and answering it.

It was Connor.

"Hey, Em? We've got the results of your blood test—" the latest of thousands "—and the vervain's reappeared. It looks like you're parents didn't just give it to you as an injection; they wired it into your molecular sequence. If you could come back in just for a couple of hours..."

He didn't have to say any more.

Other than the fact that my insane crazy roommates were well on their way to already figuring out my huge secret, this was a window that I was being told to look at. I was practically already there.

"Got it. See you in fifteen." I said.

I hung up the phone.

"That was work," I explained to my family. "I have to go now."

Lily frowned. "Now? What about breakfast?"

Twisting my spaghetti into a hasty mess on my fork, I shoved it into my mouth while standing and reaching for my jacket. I grabbed a roll from the bread basket in the middle of the table. "I'll eat on the way," I told them, walking back into the kitchen and placing the pan with all the other dirty dishes. "When I get home those dishes better be cleaned," I warned them.

Lily didn't seem to want to give up without a fight. "You're going to work, dressed like that?"

I looked down at my black denim jeans and form-fitting t-shirt. It was one of my anti-government slogan ones. I grinned up at her. "You can take a government protest out of the need to protest, but you can't take the need to protest out of the protester." I said to her with a smirk. "They can't change all of me. See you tonight."

"She's off to investigate government secrets—maybe's she'll be abducted and we'll never see her again." Cam laughed.

I shuddered slightly as I headed out the door. He really didn't have any idea how close to the truth he was.

**.:.**

I entered the room relatively quickly, my laptop swung over my shoulder casually—but long enough that the joint was beginning to ache. The lights were off and the room was colder than it was supposed to be so I frowned. Rubbing my arm to warm myself from the sudden chills I peered into the unfamiliar darkness.

"Connor?" I frowned, my voice echoing across the desks and computers that didn't look nearly as ominous in the daylight. "Connor, where are you?"

"Oh, god. Emma I'm so sorry—she—I don't—"

I spun around to see Connor, node bloodied and bleeding from the neck held by the back of his neck by—

"_Elena Gilbert?" _I screeched incredulously, recognising her soft features and long hair—although, I never remembered her wearing it curled (in the grand few weeks I spent in her town.)

"Guess again, Emma." Elena—or not?—said. "My name is Katherine."

**.:.**

**Obviously, Katherine was always going to be a big thing in this fic. She was the first chapter of the ANOMALY as well, wasn't she? **

**Now, as to Emma. I hope you guys have understood the transition she's gone through. She's trying to resent Damon because of the email 'he' sent her, and she's trying to fit into the life she now knows her parents want for her. (Also, did you catch the few seconds of attention I gave the vervain? We'll definitely be expanding on that soon. We'll also be seeing Damon soon—coming into part two of season 2, therefore catching me up and getting everything right as rain. **

**I know this isn't the path some of you wanted to see this story take, and I'm sorry for that. But I promise, I'm a sucker for happy endings and all I want to see is Damon get one. **

**Please review and give me your thoughts. **

**G. **


	2. The Rewind

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

Nb: 'Tara' is pronounced 'Tera.'

**xXxXx**

_13 July 2010, The Salvatore Boarding House, _

Damon entered the room at a pace, dropping his jacket neatly over the back of one of the many old chairs in the room. He moved straight to the liquor, quickly choosing a suitable vintage to get him as drunk out of his mind as a vampire could be. Starting off slow, he poured himself half a glass and put the pitcher down again, before moving away. It was time to think—about Katherine, and about Elena and about all the other complicated women in his life.

_Emma. _

He pushed the thought away hurriedly, and didn't dwell on it. He didn't leave himself much time to dwell on anything though, when he picked up _her_ scent in the room and realised he was not as alone with his thoughts as he'd thought.

"Very brave of you to come here," he stated, almost sighing as he turned to face her. He moved his eyes slowly, almost dreading the moment when he sets his gaze on her...

She was as glorious as he remembered. He'd seen her before (hell, he'd kissed her) but there was a different between Elena and Katherine that he could see (even if others couldn't). It wasn't just in their manner, and their actions and the fact that one was centuries older than him, and the other had the naivety of a toddler.

Elena was the girl next door. Katherine was glorious.

Hundreds of thousands of men had proved that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the girl next door and yet, there was something about Katherine acting so inherently _Katherine_ that it was impossible to compare the two of them.

But he didn't want to compare them. I didn't want to think about them at all. He just wanted to drink himself into a blissful oblivion (as vampires go) and forget about this whole day.

"I wanted to say goodbye." She drawled, smiling _that _smile at him from the corner of _his _couch.

There is a pause during which they just watch each other. Damon is cold, trying to figure out how to approach this whole situation. Katherine is calm and observant, trying to guess how Damon will finally decide.

"Leaving so soon?" He asked, not trusting himself to speak without carefully thought of words.

"I know where I'm not wanted," she replied, smirking again. Internally Damon frowned. Katherine wouldn't ever know where she wasn't wanted because he doubted that anyone had ever not wanted her. Except for him and Stefan, who would pass up a chance to be with someone like her?

He flinched imperceptibly when he realised that he was only thinking all of this because some part (some huge, strong, annoying part) of him still loved her.

"Don't pout," he advised her, pushing the thought away. "It's not attractive on a woman your age." He followed his statement with a drink, emptying the cup quickly.

She let out a dry puff of laughter, her expression not changing. "Ouch," she murmured.

He placed the glass down on the table before turning to leave. If Katherine was going to be here, that was her choice. It didn't, however, mean that he had to be here with her.

She stopped him in seconds, moving to stand in the middle of his path. "What, no goodbye kiss?" she checked. She cocked her head to the side as she considered him.

"Why don't I kill you instead?"

He could do it. She was stronger than him but she had not nearly as much determination. She hadn't had her heart broken after one hundred and forty five years of freaking devotion. She clearly didn't think so, and she smirked again.

"What are you doing here?" Damon demanded.

"Nostalgia, curiosity, etcetera."

"I'm better at the enigmatic one-liners, Katherine," Damon shook his head. "What're you up to?"

"Trust me, Damon," she said with a lazy smile. "When I'm up to something, you'll know it." She peered around the room for a moment, taking in the mansion that she hadn't been in since Damon and Stefan were human. "So, I take it you got my letter?"

Damon swallowed, thinking of Emma—reminded that when he'd taken in Emma, it had been at Katherine's (supposedly) dead request.

"Why'd you even send me that?" he asked quickly. "You were clearly alive to do it yourself." He scoffed slightly, unable to entirely hide the hurt from his voice.

She sighed. "Do you really think that _I _could follow around some human for more than a couple of months. I know you Damon, and I had faith in your devotion to her, and, more importantly, to _me." _

Damon felt compelled to hit her and was more than happy to follow through. Even with his supernatural speed, she dodged and disabled him.

"You always were a _passionate _man, Damon." She cooed in his ear. "I knew that if I put you up to the task, you wouldn't disappoint, and I'm confident you haven't. Now, where is she?"

Damon was unable to stop thinking about Emma now. He thought of her auburn hair and her annoying frown that she wore as an almost constant face mask. He thought of the fear in her eyes when he told her the truth, and the look that he'd thought was trust when she got over it.

She'd always been good at getting over things.

And then she'd taken off and sent him that stupid _freaking _email that he still hadn't been able to delete, and he thinking of it made him scowl.

"I killed her." He said instantly, nostrils flaring in his anger.

Katherine didn't even humour him. Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Lies, Damon?" she frowned. "I thought we were past that." She ran a slow finger down his arm and he flinched away from her touch. "Where is she?"

"How did you know I was lying?" Damon asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Katherine hadn't seen him in one hundred and forty five years. There was no way she could still see right through him.

Katherine looked at him past lazy eyelids, and smiled. "Because you did exactly what I asked you to by not drinking from her, and you never learnt why I wanted her in the first place." She suddenly didn't look as calm as she did. "Now tell me where she is, Damon."

At this point, he could only really go with the truth. It wasn't as though Katherine would be able to find her straight away.

Anyway, she wasn't his problem anymore. She was the one who'd left.

"She left." He said bluntly. "She figured out what I was and she ran."

Katherine was silent, examining his face for a moment before ascertaining that he was telling the truth and nodding slightly. "Fine. I'll find her soon enough."

Damon didn't care.

He really _didn't. _

Emma had left _him. _Emma wasn't his problem anymore.

"Come on, kiss me. Or kill me. Which will it be, Damon? We both know you're only capable of one."

**.:.**

_October 30, 2010_

God Katherine _hated _this town.

For one, it smelled.

And it had a stupid name. (Seriously, _Mystic Falls,_ what the hell is that?)

But really? Her _doppelganger? _She'd thought (at one point) that at least Stefan had more class than that. To show up here and find out that both of her once dedicated boys were now pining over a—more boring than boring can freaking get—carbon copy of herself ? It was humiliating and infuriating, and why was she embarrassed? _They _should so be the ones who were embarrassed.

Because, damnit, why didn't they want her? She sure as hell didn't want them—(just Stefan in all his glorious beauty and maybe a fight with Damon so that she could tear him apart all over again).

But none of that mattered now.

Because she was stuck in a tomb.

A tomb that some stupid witch that she'd at least _pretended _to trust once upon a time (and honestly, didn't that mean _anything? _She's worked remarkably hard to keep up that charade) had decided to go and curse. And Damon had shut her inside and it really freaking _stank_ in here.

But, she supposed, she was _safe. _Sure, it would have been nice if the boys had left her a snack or something to play with—food and a place to sleep is always nice—but still. Elijah? Klaus?

How the _hell_ could they get to her here?

Rolling her eyes at the internal optimist that seemed to be dying to press through her anger, Katherine turned to other reasons why it well and truly sucked to be stuck down here.

Oh right.

She hadn't even had the freaking time to go and visit Damon's pet. She'd been so caught up in the whole 'I love Stefan—break Damon's heart again' thing that she hadn't really thought about the fascinating little girl who would have obviously grown up by now. And while a girl who was vervain running through her veins was really not high on the list of stuff Katherine needed right now, it was still a complication.

And it was a complication Katherine would be forced to think about and do nothing over for the rest of the time she was stuck in this stupid freaking tomb.

God, this was so macabre.

**.:.**

_The Tomb. One bajillion trillion years later although, the time's passing faster now that Stefan's here. _

"Are we seriously not going to talk at all?"

Goddamn, Katherine hates Elena all the more just watching Stefan sit naturally on the floor of what had been the most boring place she'd ever been. Finally, she had some _company_ and wasn't it just perfect that that company was Stefan.

Sweet, beautiful, delicious Stefan with his cute little eyes and his hair and—

"Well we could talk about how you regret all you've done in making my life miserable."

God, she missed the old days. The days when he used to hang off her every word (although, if she was honest, that was always more Damon's forte) were long gone and she missed them.

Shrugging her shoulders a little helplessly, but still maintaining her perfectly mussed hair just because she knew how much Stefan liked it, she moved forward. The lamp in her hand moved the light with her—another effect that she hoped would draw his attention. "What do you want me to say, Stefan? That I'm sorry for everything that I've done?"

She stopped, placing the lantern on the ledge. "Well, I'm not, okay?" She said, taking the higher road and telling the truth with a bitchy hand on the hip to go with. "It's called self-preservation. I've been looking out for myself for five hundred years."

He chuckles, and it would be damn sexy if it wasn't so damn infuriating.

"Looks where it's gotten you?" he sighs, tilting his head in her direction.

Now that his eyes are on her she moved again, swinging her hips subtly as she walks. She's always oozed sex, now she just has to make him succumb. "Yes," she sighs dramatically, "I've done terrible things. I know that. But I do love you, Stefan, even if you don't believe it."

Damn, she's good. She fights the urge to smirk as she watches anger rear up in him. "You want me to believe you?" he says incredulously, displaying ridiculous self control as he calms himself down. "Show me. Do something. Show to me that there's something inside of you that's actually worth trusting."

Damn him.

"And then what?" Katherine demanded, not so impressed with herself any more.

Then again, she wouldn't have liked him so much if he wasn't just a bit annoying. He shrugged.

"You're still going to hate me," she said, sitting down on one of the gross old stone thingies. Why they even had seats in tombs was beyond her, but at least she wasn't stuck on the ground.

"Maybe," he said, "or maybe I'll see that there's still hope for you after all."

Right, she though sarcastically. Because that was his decision. She had almost three hundred and fifty years on him, and he was the one who had to absolve her of her sins.

Still, if it meant _forgiveness... _

The minute the thought had passed through her head she knew what he was doing. He had gotten good in the past hundred years—no wonder she'd turned him. He was a master of words when he was human—she'd just given him time to practice.

"You're playing me," she said softly, with a hint of accusation.

"Am I?"

"You wanna find Klaus?" She followed; deciding that if he was playing her, coming out with something that could help him would in no way be detrimental to their relationship. The only difference would be that he didn't expect it. "Kill him, so that you can protect your precious Elena?"

"Let me guess," he frowned, and she knew that she'd surprised him. "You know where he is?"

"No, I don't." Katherine shook her head. "But I could help you find him."

"For a price, I'm sure."

"Start with Isobel," Katherine said after a moment's deliberation. "Elena's mother. She was a research expert, she found me."

They both leave a pause—Katherine mostly for dramatic effect and Stefan to ponder the information that she's just given him. She grins slightly, and whispered, "You're welcome." the effect is lost and their pause interrupted by the sound of a large heavy opening at the entrance to the tomb.

She inhaled sharply when they investigated and she realised exactly who their late visitor was. "Elijah," she breathed out. She couldn't hide the fear from her voice as she stepped back, bracing herself on the hard rock of the tomb.

_He can't get in. He can't get in. He can't get in. _

"Good evening, company." He said pleasantly, as he always had done. "Thank you for having the good sense to be frightened.

_He can't get in._

"Your release has been requested." He turned his head to Stefan, ignoring her presence beyond that. She shared a quick, hesitant look with Stefan (that must have meant progress, but with an Original in the room she couldn't really focus much on that).

"What? By who?"

"The lovely Elena drives a hard bargain."

Katherine almost forgot her fear as she stared at Elijah in calculating shock.

That _bitch. _

**.:.**

This city is so much more her style. It's seven in the evening and the cars and buses that drives past her as she strolls down the side of the road are large and numerous—each one populated with a driver who thinks she's an idiot. But it's alive and busy and not at all the stupid, _freaking _Mystic Falls.

Still, she has a plan.

She got out of the tomb easily enough. Manipulating Damon had always been her favourite pastime and almost killing him in the process of freeing herself had actually been interesting. She was still thinking about what Stefan woud have done, if she had been responsible for his brother's death.

They were an interesting pair, to say the least.

But now? She had other plans. Now that she was out of the tomb and full on warm, rich, untampered human blood she had no qualms about finally investigating Damon's pet. Emma was the name that the five year old had given her when Brett—or Jake or Jason or something—had killed her parents. They'd been returning from a screening of Dracula at the cinemas, she'd later found out.

The irony almost made the whole thing sweeter.

She'd been looking for the girl for weeks. Emma Hamilton, as she'd once been, had obviously changed her name somewhere along the line, but with a little help from Isobel and a lot of good detective work on her own part she found her.

Emma Briggs, now living and working in _this _very city—part of a ridiculously amateur vampire hunting group that had yet to face a vampire. The training exercises that Katherine had been watching—with a command centre, stupidly amusing nicknames and stake guns could have been the most amusing thing she'd seen in her entire existence.

And these people—this bunch of five people whose only strength was the genetics lab that worked behind them—actually thought that they could take down a vampire?

Anyway, she'd observed for too long. Emma lived with her old friends, with some weird vampires hunters.

There was her first roommate Connor, a well dressed human who was clearly crushing on their other roommate—an amateur designer with fiery red hair and green eyes named Lily. They both had no idea of the secret life that Emma led, and thought that she worked temping.

In her team of idiots, there were four others. Another girl—a short 'hard ass' named Tara, who seemed to think that vampires would be the easiest target ever since she could shoot a stake four times into the heart of a still, potato sack dummy.

There were three boys. Lachlan was in charge. He was a hottie, even as a human, and if he wasn't a crazy, insane vampire hunter Katherine might have even considered turning him. He had the whole blonde surfer thing going on, with a tan that made he almost glow and really, _really _green eyes. He spent his time either in their HQ trying to observe everything and appear official, or with Katherine's Emma.

Alex seemed to be the 'weapons guy'. Despite the fact that everyone in the team spanned from the age of eighteen (Emma) to twenty three (Lachlan) the lab that Lachlan's father owned (she knew, working off Daddy's back much?) had supplied the group with pressurised stake dispensers (that moved so slowly Katherine could just pluck it out of the air if she wanted) and a bunch of other stupid things. They didn't have anything particularly inventive—and absolutely nothing that would actually overpower a vampire, but hell, their dedication was amusing.

Connor was their mission control—a dweeb with large, square glasses but Katherine supposed he'd have a cute face if he fixed his hair—blonde and long and tied back in a pony tail. He was good with computers, she'd give him that, but did he really think that the surveillance cameras that he'd been developing for the field would work if the ones he was monitoring in the actual 'HQ' couldn't spot her?

She used this to her advantage now, as she hid in one of the camera's blind spots. She watched as Connor reached for the phone on his desk, working in almost complete darkness (hadn't the kid ever seen a horror movie?)

"Hey, Em?" he said into the receiver. "We've got the results of your blood test—" Katherine leaned forward in interest "—and the vervain's reappeared. It looks like you're parents didn't just give it to you as an injection; they wired it into your molecular sequence. If you could come back in just for a couple of hours..."

Well.

That was very _interesting. _

She moved through the space at full speed. Dramatically making sure hat as she moved, papers flew off the desk and the windows fluttered ominously, she smirked as she watched the boy's head lift and look around him.

Of their ragtag team, Emma was the only one who'd seen a vampire. It seemed that was why she left Damon—the idiot had told her.

But he clearly hadn't done anything more than that. If she'd seen what Damon was capable of, and then come back here, they should have known that all their preparation was essentially the stupidest thing ever.

Connor stared around, frozen with his eyes wide as his pony tail swung slightly. "Who's there?" he frowned. "Emma?"

Katherine stopped. She was really _sick _of being mistaken for other girls. Specifically ones who's names began with 'E'.

"Guess again, sweet cheeks." She said, appearing behind him and grabbing hold of his pony tail. She hoisted him out of his seat and turned him to face her. "Guess you're vamp operation isn't quite up to par." She smirked, before pushing his neck to the side and having herself a nice drink.

He screamed like a girl.

Once she was done—she had been full when she arrived and she really didn't need the hassle of cleaning up another body, so she really only took a few sips—she wiped her mouth and pushed a tissue box at him.

"Clean up." She demanded, "I need you to be proper when our Emma arrives." She said.

The boy was pretty much frozen with fear. Sighing, Katherine pulled the tissues out herself. She pushed them into his hand and then moved his arm so that he was doing as she'd asked. Once the blood stopped flowing out of his neck, he seemed to regain some of his sense.

"Who're—oh, god—you're a—"

Nodding her head patronisingly, with a wide smile, Katherine helped him out a bit. "Say it with me," she taunted. "_Vam—pi—re."_

The door to the HQ opened. Katherine pressed her hand over his mouth and ran, pulling him instantly back to a dark corner. He let out a noise of surprise, clearly not knowing that she was capable of such a feat.

Emma Briggs had changed very much from the picture that she'd found in Damon's room. After taking that shower and getting out of Mystic Falls (even though she fully intended to go back) she'd found a photo frame of Damon, reading a book while an enthusiastic girl sat beside him, lifting two fingers to give him bunny ears behind his head. That girl was obviously Emma Hamilton and Emma Briggs—but there were still the obvious indicators that the girl had tried to run.

For a starters, her previously dark auburn hair was now a smooth blonde. Like, platinum blonde. She did her make up less—not the heavy stuff she'd seemed to have been into before. But she wore the same clothes and even a dramatic change in hair colour couldn't hide _her. _

"Connor?" She frowned, her voice echoing across the desks and computers. She hadn't seemed to have notices the papers that lay on the floor. "Connor, where are you?"

Katherine pulled her hand away from his mouth, and while she'd thought maybe the boy wouldn't talk to save his friend, she'd been wrong. He immediately started churning out a bad apology.

"Oh, god. Emma I'm so sorry—she—I don't—"

Emma only watched us both for a second, before her eyes widened and she frowned.

"_Elena Gilbert?" _

God—_freaking—_damnit.

"Guess again, Emma." Katherine said, remarkably calm for a vampire who wanted to rip the head off of the next person who thought she was Elena. "My name is Katherine."

**.:.**

**So, I'm currently in the very middle of testing and feeling super dooper guilty for writing this instead of studying, but knowing that if I'd studied I'd have felt super dooper guilty for not updating. I have a week left, and then two weeks holiday, so I should be able to get out an update every weekend for the first few chapters (it's really a touch and go process, sorry guys). **

**I will definitely write in the holidays, but after this, don't expect another update for about a weakish. **

**Ex's and Oh's lovelies, **

**Please review. **

**G. **


	3. The Big Reveal

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**Nb:** _Shadowcat7694 _asked me if Emma was still a spoiled little brat. The answer, just to clear it up for people, is probably yes. Emma was supposed to be spoiled in 'The Anomaly' and while she has evolved and become a (marginally) selfless person away from Mystic Falls, seeing Damon again is going to send her reeling back to that specific state of mind. (And, I promise, I took no offence :P)

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV._

When I woke up, I could feel something behind me, shaking uncontrollably. For a moment, when the blurry memories had flooded back into my head, I thought it must have been some obscure type of vampire torture—but then I heard the sounds that came with it.

Twisting my neck at a painful angle, I focused as best I could on Connor. He wasn't in good shape—sobs combined with some sort of frantic sneezing.

I instantly wanted to move more, to make sure that he was alright. But I was tied to a chair (I know, _cliché_ much?) with my arms bonded to the chair and heavy ropes around my torso held me tightly to the back. My feet had been tied again, and shallowly, I was glad that I'd worn jeans when going to visit Connor.

Connor seemed to have noticed that I was awake and moving and quietened slightly.

"Emma?" He croaked, feeling my movement. He was also tied up; seemingly identical to the one I was in, right behind me. The bonds around my upper body seemed to be attached to the back of his chair—and vice versa.

"Yeah, Con, it's me." I murmured, stretching my neck as best I could. "How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours," Connor said quickly. His voice sounded hoarse and he sneezed again. "You alright?"

I nodded, checking myself out. I realised he couldn't see me, so I quickly told him that I was alright before continuing to check. Nothing hurt more than the ache of being knocked out. The last thing I could remember was Elena's look alike telling me her name was Katherine. It looked like this Katherine chick hadn't hurt me more than knocking me out.

"What's happened?" I asked stretching my neck again and trying to get the cricks out. "Where are we? Are _you _alright?"

He sneezed again. Snorting slightly, he chuckled—his nose and throat sounding blocked. "It's an allergic reaction." He said, "There's a reason I didn't go out into the field. Apparently this place doesn't agree with me."

I frowned at his use of past tense. _Didn't? _"Don't." I said quickly. "You _don't _go out into the field. It's not like we've died."

Connor let out a sarcastic scoff. "Right," he laughed dryly. "For _now. _We've been kidnapped by a vampire, Em. They don't just _let _people go."

I thought of Damon, but pushed him away from my head as quickly as he arrived.

"Optimism is necessary, Con. You can't just give up straight away." I said, swallowed the memories and my now dry throat. Whatever Katherine wanted with us, she _was _a vampire.

"Did you _see _her?" Connor demanded quickly. "The things she could do? The people we've been trying to prepare ourselves for are fast food for _real vampires_."

I swallowed, feeling guilty. I was the only one who'd ever seen a vampire—and I'd clearly missed out on most of it. While I hadn't seen what this vampire was capable of, Connor seemed freaked. I probably should have told them as much as I could about Damon but something had always stopped me.

Damon was mine. He was my memory and I never wanted him to become my failure. Even Lachlan—who'd kidnapped me from him—didn't know that I knew about Damon's 'living' state. I'd left that out—and he'd been so obsessed with the vervain blood results that he hadn't even asked.

Whatever it had been that had stopped Damon from eating me (unless he was just waiting for me to grow for optimum drinking power) was done for now though. If that email was anything to go by.

But despite the email, I wasn't going to let Lachlan or any of the others near him.

Connor sneezed again, for the moment pushing Damon from my mind. "Hey," I said quickly, trying to sound as comforting as possible. "What can I do?"

Connor let out a breathy groan and let his head roll back to rest against mine. "Get the vampire to kill us quickly?" He said with a dry chuckle.

"Hey," I warned him quickly. "We'll have none of that, now. I didn't even know you have allergies? Why are they suddenly so bad?"

Connor sniffed, and then lifted his head. "I'd say it's because of where we are. Somewhere like Georgia or Virginia."

_As in the computer chips and 'Old Dominion' Virginia?_

Great. It appeared that our vampire had something else in common with Elena Gilbert. I was willing to bet anything that Connor's allergies (and that sinking feeling I felt in my stomach) were all because we'd been brought back to Mystic Falls.

I didn't have any time to try and figure out what being back here meant for me (or Damon, but even in the millisecond I had to think I didn't want to think about _that) _because of the sound of high heels clacking against the floor.

Connor clearly hadn't heard the sound—probably his allergic reaction to whatever it was that was in the air. "She had another vampire here," Connor said quickly. "They were talking about a guy named Klaus."

The sound of her shoes stopped. Unfortunately I was facing the back wall, while Connor faced where I assumed the door was.

"You don't need to worry yourself with that, Connor." I heard Katherine say with a simple lilt to her voice. Connor fell silent, even stopping his sniffing as she slowly began to move around. "After today Klaus won't be a problem."

She walked into my line of sight and I frowned slightly, again struck by the uncanny resemblance to Elena. She seemed to know what I was thinking and rolled her eyes.

"Don't even ask, kid," she warned me, just I had opened my mouth to do just that. I snapped my jaw shut. Smirking to herself, she unfolded her arms and waved a slip of paper in front of me. "Look what I found when I was picking you two up last night?" she drawled.

I had no idea what the paper was, or what the graphs on the paper even meant. Katherine, noting the confused look on my face, rolled her eyes again and moved to the side of the bound chairs. Without even flinching, she had broke the ropes on the chair and pulled them so that Connor was sitting beside me. Even without the torso ropes, we were still securely tied to the chair at the arms and legs.

Connor seemingly recognised the content of the paper instantly.

"That's right," Katherine sneered, recognising this. "It's the blood test results—_your _blood test results, Emma."

I swallowed slightly, recalling the phone call that Connor had made before Katherine had gotten to him. The vervain had returned again, he'd said.

Once that first blood test had been confirmed and Lachie had quickly kidnapped me from my blood run for Damon, we'd done thousands more. Sometimes, Lachie would try and see if eating specific things would get rid of the vervain that was now embedded into my DNA sequencing, but it seemed that yet again, his 'concoction' had been thwarted.

But I couldn't tell that from the graphs. Unfortunately, it looked like Katherine had spent some of her time as a creature of the nights figuring out exactly how to read data like this, and wasn't having any problems. Connor had paled as well.

"You're friends at your _lab_ had deduced that the vervain is still embedded in your blood," Katherine informed me, almost sounding like an impartial third party. "But _Lachlan_ was very adamant that with these results, he knew exactly how to get the vervain from your system should you want it gone? Now, why would you want it out of your system? Isn't it keeping you safe?"

That was an obvious question. It shouldn't have surprised me that she'd made the leap that quickly, especially after she'd displayed that she wasn't just some dumb teenager—no matter how much she looked like one (**1)**.

Apparently, the herb was pretty much useless. It did nothing for food or drink—not changing the meal even the slightly. It didn't do anything to the habitats where it was common—which was pretty much all over the world. It wasn't bad for other flora, nor was it bad for the animals of those environments, so no one had ever considered that it would be bad for humans. I mean, there'd never been any negative repercussions. There was really no reason for it to exist.

Apparently no one had ever put it in their blood before.

Why my parents had decided it would be a good element of my blood I could only guess. But it seemed that it helped with my health. As a child, old reports of my parents (that Lachie had found) said that I had never been sick. Damon had always told me that I must have had wonder genes because he'd never had to look after me while I was sick either. But getting a cold was natural, right?

Lachlan had been stupidly worried the first time I got sick. It was in the first month of being in the big city and I got a cold. I'd thought about how much that would have entertained Damon and then cried about that email that he'd sent me.

The vervain had spent the first eighteen years of my life taking care of me, and strengthening my immune system.

"My dad says that Vervain is important—and has elements that react specifically to strains of DNA," Lachlan said to me when I'd been sick and couldn't understand why he was so worried. "It deteriorates them—weakens them. It looks like—after being in your blood for so long—it's beginning to have some of the same effects."

It was nothing drastic. It wasn't as though my blood was burning me from the inside, or anything super stupid.

But Lachlan had been clear. The vervain being in my system was doing _something _to me. When my parents had given it to me, I'd been a foetus. And ever since then, it had been slowly changing me from the inside.

And I wanted it out.

Still.

I sure as hell wasn't telling this Katherine chick that.

"It's an option." I told her stonily. "I'm not the only one and we're testing to make sure that it can be removed if necessary."

Katherine's eyes narrowed. So she hadn't thought there were other people like me.

...It was an accurate assumption, since there _weren't_ any other's like me.

But Katherine didn't need to know that.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "How would Damon react to seeing you now, Emma? You're trying to be some hardened little warrior—but I can see it. You're dying being here. Is that because you know you'll do something stupid if you see him again?"

I flinched. Connor looked at me, confused—obviously because he had no idea who or what Katherine was talking about. Katherine herself moved around in a lazy circle as she continued to speak.

"I was surprised, when I got back to find you weren't with him, actually." She mused. 'All the people I've had follow you and him over the years told me that you both adored each other." She shot me a sly look. "If you know what I mean."

Connor's brow creased further and I swallowed. She knew Damon. She'd had Damon and I watched?

Katherine, again knowing exactly what was going on in my head, let out a dry laugh. "Of course I know Damon, Emma." She said condescendingly. "Who do you think turned him?"

Connor's frantic eyes swung to face me.

"Of course," Katherine said, her eyes sparkling as she watched the obvious emotions on my face—knowing that she was about to kick start a conflict that was always going to bite me in the ass. "I was surprised that he even _let _you leave. He was always such a compassionate man—even as a vampire—and that's why I knew he'd take care of you. You were so _dependant _and you really loved him—it everything he'd ever wanted—why would he pass up the opportunity to have a pet human?"

Connor let out a dry moan of shock, and I closed my eyes. In the dark of my own mind all I could see was Damon's face—his shattered face when he'd thought for a simple second that I wasn't going to accept him.

Katherine clearly didn't giving a flying frack.

Kneeling down and pressing her hands into my knees, I opened my eyes to see her malicious smirk. "Do you know why Damon found you and adopted you, Emma?"

I swallowed, shaking my head. I didn't want her to tell me this.

"Damon looked after you because I told him to," she said coldly. "And even though he thought I was dead—he did it. That's what Damon does for _me. _That's how much Damon _loves _me. And when I found you, in that disgusting alley, after we'd killed your parents I just couldn't be bothered to wait and see how you'd turn out—so I told Damon to do it."

She straightened, dusting her hands as thought touching me had somehow contaminated her.

"And he did."

I let out a sob—only for a second and I caught it before I could evolve but Katherine heard. She smirked and rolled her eyes, checking the time on her modern phone. She let her gaze swap from me and my obviously broken face to Connor in his shock (and now, probably, anger).

"I have to make a call. I'll be back, kiddies." She simpered, and she stalked out of the room.

A pregnant silence followed in her wake.

I fought to control my breathing, trying not to think about it. Damon was _mine. _He was my secret and I hadn't wanted anyone else to find out about him. And yet, here was this _bitch_ telling me that he'd done it all for her—and then she'd no doubt ruined all the friendships she'd while away from him.

I felt the Emma I'd been in this place the first time rearing her immature head and pushed her back down. "That _bitch," _I muttered, "that freaking—"

"You _lied." _Connor's cold voice broke into my reverie and this time I permitted myself to sob in response. "You lied to us. You were raised by a _vampire?"_

I coughed. In the moment, Connor seemed to have forgotten about his allergies—his voice sounded as strong as ever. In my own moment of confusing freaking distress, however, my voice sounded throaty and harsh.

"Damon didn't tell me." I defended myself. "He just—I only found out the day that Lachie took me away. And I didn't know what to do. Damon was my guardian. A huge part of me loved him—a part of me still loves him and I wasn't going to let you just take that away from me."

Connor let out and angry scoff.

"Right," he said sarcastically. "So you thought you'd just humour us and let us play our clearly pathetic little vampire hunting games. Did you have a good laugh at our expense knowing what we were really up against?"

I shook my head. "_No—_no. Connor—I had no idea that they could do this. I'd never seen Damon do anything like what she can do. I _didn't know_."

Connor scoffed but was silent.

Opened my mouth to plead my case some more, but fell silent when I realised we could hear Katherine's voice from the room.

"I'm at your house," she was saying—probably into the phone. This must have been the call she'd had to make. "We'll have to hurry. Damon knows your lodging tricks—it will take him all of twenty minutes to find out where you're staying."

There was a pause.

"I'll pack them up now. I thought I'd just kill them and leave them here but it looks like the blood situation is a little more complicated than I'd thought." I swallowed. So she'd bought my lie, but for how long? And could it still ensure Connor's safety? "Good, how far are you?"

She paused again. This time for longer. The sound of her heels clicking against the stone floor stopped.

"He?" Her voice was confused and low—not the light conversation that it had been. "He, who?"

There was a crash. For a second, both Connor and I forgot what had just happened and frantically twisted so that we could both try and see the door. Katherine had closed the door behind herself as she'd gone to make her phone call but—

There was a loud scream and I moved my hand, grabbing Connor's next to mine. It was a strain against the ropes that fought to hold my arm in place but I wasn't letting go. Connor, for the moment, didn't seem to mind.

The screaming stopped.

We held our breaths.

The sound of footsteps—no longer the clack of Katherine's stilettos but the softer push of leather soles—moved towards the door and all too quickly the door was opening.

I watched with wide eyes as a man with dark eyes stared at us for a moment. He paused, looking at us closely, not saying a word. Then he nodded his head slowly, and pulled the door close again, leaving Connor and I alone.

Connor and I didn't move until we heard the sound of the front door being opened and closed again. The house remained silent for a couple more minutes, during which I only held my breath and clutched at Connor's hand, until we realised we seemed to be alone again.

"What the hell was that?" Connor asked quickly.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Moving his hand, Connor escaped my anxious grasp and looked down at his knees. I stopped myself crying at the feeling for rejection and bit my lip.

"I think she's been taken." Connor decided, after a second.

I nodded, "but by who? The good guys? Or the bad guys?"

Connor looked around the room as though something in the stark, polished white space could provide an answer. "At the moment, they've taken the bitchy vampire and left us—so I'm going to say the good guys."

I sighed, missing the comfort of holding his hand. We were in this together. "Just you wait for another couple of days to go by—no one's going to find us. Then we'll see if they did us a favour or not."

Connor was silent.

"Maybe it had something to do with that guy she said wasn't a problem." I said, attempting to get him to talk to me. "The Klaus bloke?"

Connor shrugged noncommittally.

"Well," I said, trying for the last time. 'At least Katherine's gone. Optimism, right?" I let out a nervous laugh.

He took a deep breath and moved his head, looking me in the eye.

I swallowed.

"You lied, Emma." He said throatily. "And you shouldn't have. And it _will _take a while to get past that. But we're stuck here together, and I believe that you didn't know that vampires were capable of _this_ so I'm giving you a temporary break—just until we get out of here."

I nodded silently.

"Because when we get out of here, I will be so entitled to be super pissed."

He moved his hand back into my reach and squeezed my hands once, before shifting as best he could and resting the back of his head against the chair.

**.:.**

I'd fallen into an odd sort of state of consciousness when the thought occurred to me. I had been in the space between sleep and reality—sleeping, but still seeing the white walls and floor of the room we were in. Connor had seemed to be in the same space.

I'd been running over the sequence of events, trying to figure out if anyone would be coming to find us. It seeming to be a foreclosed house or something like that and I had no idea how often people checked those, so I'd been running over her conversation on the phone.

_Damon knows your lodging tricks—it will take him all of twenty minutes to find out where you're staying._

"Holy crap."

I was jolted out of my reverie instantly, sitting straight up. Connor, whose head had rolled and landed to lean on my shoulder, was violently pushed out of his state as well. "Christ, Em." He said, flinching from the pain that had obviously come when my shoulder had collided with the side of his head. "What was that?"

"We have to get out of here." I said urgently. I pulled at the bonds around my hands, frantically trying to make them break. Katherine couldn't have been _that _strong. If she could do it, surely I could too.

Connor nodded. His allergies had seemingly calmed down, but he still sounded a little blocked. "Right," he said sarcastically. "I hadn't thought of that. Let's just tear these ropes off then and—"

I shook my head. "You don't understand," I interrupted him. "Katherine said _Damon _was looking for her. She said he'd be here—I can't see _Damon _again."

Connor frowned. "Why not?" he asked. "I thought you loved the guy? Isn't this a good thing?"

I shook my head. "Connor, he told me he was a vampire." I said loudly. "The night that Lachie took me, I had just found out. So he thinks that I just deserted him and he doesn't deal well with that."

Connor frowned, kind of understanding but still confused. "The guy can get over it, can't he?"

"He sent me an email that said he'd kill me if I came back."

Connor was silent for a second.

"Right." He said quickly. "Let's get out of here."

We struggled futilely for a few minutes, before realising that this was obviously not a good escape plan.

"Do you have anything sharp?" I asked. "Maybe a knife in your pocket."

Connor took a moment to turn from his attempts to pull away from the chair to survey me with a dry look. "Because I'm always the go to _knife _guy."

I let out an annoyed noise before pulling again. "It was just a suggestion." I defended myself.

He seemed ready to bite back with a smart answer when the sound of the door opening interrupted us.

We both froze.

"This is Isobel's stuff. This is definitely the right place."

I froze. I didn't even move to stop pulling against the bonds, nor do anything except let a mask of complete fear and apprehension fall onto my features.

"Is that him?" Connor asked in less than a whisper. Convinced he could probably hear us, all I did was nod my head as I stared at the white wall. We weren't even facing the door. He could just come in here and...

But would he kill me?

Would he really?

He'd told me himself he would never hurt me—and I always knew he'd had a problem with rejection—but would he really kill me?

"Where are they?" another recognisable voice demanded. I heard frantic steps on the stairs as I realised that Stefan was with him. They seemed to be looking for Katherine together. When had _that _happened?

"I don't know, Stefan." Damon said in the dangerous, annoyed voice that he was so good at. There were more footsteps and for a second I thought they might have been leaving. I let out a heavy sigh of relief.

The footsteps stopped.

Connor turned his terrified gaze to me and I let the expression on my face mimic his. Again, we heard the door handle turn and the door was pushed open. In an instant, there was a hand at my neck and I vaguely recognised that Stefan had followed his brother inside and had Connor in a similar hold of death.

But I didn't really notice.

Because all I could see what his hair (that had gotten a little longer but by no means less _amazing_ than it had always been) and his shirt (probably some stupid designer that he really liked and spent a huge amount of money on—even though the shirt was essentially a black tee) and his eyes.

Oh god, his eyes.

His blue (too blue) eyes stared down at me, right into my eyes.

"Damon." I gasped.

He flung himself away from me, leaving Stefan where he was. Despite the fact that I couldn't take my eyes off my (ex) guardian, I vaguely noted that Stefan wasn't killing Connor any more. In fact, he too took a step back to watch the interaction.

Damon was silent for another second, his eyes widening as his jaw clenching.

This was it.

He was angry.

He was going to yell—I didn't for a second think he was going to kill me—but he was definitely going to yell.

...

"Why the _hell _aren't you in school?"

**.:.**

**(1) I don't hate Elena. She's a little annoying at some times, but I don't think she's terrible. I just think from Emma's personality, and the amount of time she actually knew Elena-she'd certainly be the type to judge.  
><strong>

**DAMON IS HERE. It TOOK me long enough, right? **

**Anyway, please review. This has been a relatively quick update (comparatively) but seeing as I have to study for a Psych exam for the rest of the day, Chapter 4 might take a while. **

**I hope you enjoyed Tell me what you wanna see in the confrontation chappie—what sort of things should Damon be angry about, Emma be angry about, both be glad about? Lemme know. **

**Cheers. **

**G.**

.net/community/I_Should_Tell_You/26316/3/0/1/


	4. The Determined

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Nobody's POV_

_HQ_

"What the hell?" Lachlan demanded as he stormed around the destroyed office space. "What happened here?" He brushed his fringe from his eyes before turning his angry glare on Tara and Alex, who had entered the area with him. They weren't reacting as angrily as Lachie was—instead, the two of them stared at the wrecked space with wide eyes.

All three of them had arrived late—at about eleven in the morning—as they'd decided to go to coffee that morning together. They hadn't been able to get hold of Emma that morning and knowing that Connor would be working bright and early, had assumed that she was working with him.

The place was wrecked—excluding the papers that had been strewn haphazardly across the room—tables had been overturned and the precious computers that Connor devoted his time to had been pushed to the floor.

Upon entering, all three of the young adults had stopped and stared. Lachie had reacted first, moving quickly to try and figure out what had happened. Unfortunately, his tactic seemed to be yelling first, thinking later.

When he realised that there was no possible way that Alex or Tara could have known what was going on, he ran a frustrated hand through his blonde locks. He turned to point a shaking finger at Alex.

"Call Emma—find out exactly where she is." He ordered briskly, obviously trying to remain calm. For a man who was best known amongst these people for his temper, he was doing a very good job.

But Alex had to protest. "We tried calling her, dude," he said, pulling his Blackberry from his pocket and checking it—to see if Emma had tried calling him back. She hadn't. "She wasn't picking up."

Lachlan made a frustrated noise.

"Call her again," he ordered as he began to move further into the space. He looked closely at where Connor usually sat and peered at the wrecked computer. Lifting it back to the table he checked out the damage. The usually immaculate screen had been cracked, and the frame broken. "Even Connor won't be able to fix this." He sighed.

Meanwhile, Alex had lifted his blackberry to his ear and was waiting patiently for the phone to connect.

The familiar ringtone of Emma's phone came from the corner of the room. Lachlan, groaning, followed the sound of the noise and, after digging for a moment, pulled out the device. Clenching his fist around it, Lachlan let out a tight sigh. "One day, I'm going to kill that girl."

Tara let her phone fall from her ear. "Connor's not picking up either. His phones off."

Lachlan shook his head, reaching back to where he'd found Emma's phone and pulling out Connor's high tech gadget. "Nah—his is here too."

There was a pause as the same horrible thought occurred to each of them. Alex was brave enough to break after a while. "Lach, you don't think…?"

Lachlan cleared his throat before Alex could finish, shaking his head. "Call Emma's flat. I want to make sure we can yell at them for being late…" he trailed off with a laugh, but the atmosphere was tense as Tara lifted her phone to her ear again.

**.:.**

_Emma's POV_

Justifiably so, in my opinion, I had myself a good little splutter. "Excuse me?" I demanded instantly, feeling myself revert to the indignant person I always became whenever Damon said something annoying. "I've just been _kidnapped_."

"Were you kidnapped from school?" Damon asked, with the annoyingly attractive angry expression still on his face.

"Well, no..."

"Then _why _weren't you at _school?"_ He demanded.

Stefan and Connor were watching us with identical confused looks. In any other time or place it would have been funny to see a vampire and a techno geek doing something similar, but now? I was only focused on Damon and how annoying he was being.

"I don't need to go to school—I'm eighteen and therefore allowed to drop out—"

"You _dropped out?" _

There was silence, during which we just stared at each other. The silence was broken as Stefan cleared his throat. "Damon—_Elena. _You stay here; I'll follow Isobel's scent."

Damon nodded his head stoically, not moving his eyes from me. Both Connor and I flinched as Stefan suddenly vanished—as the evidence was made even clearer that we'd known pretty much nothing about the vampires we thought we'd be able to fight. It was almost embarrassing.

Damon smirked slightly at our identical reactions, and I glowered at him. "I have a job now." I told him angrily.

He shrugged his shoulder. "Oh, right. So how long until you run away from that as well?"

For a moment, I stared at him with an open, gaping mouth. How could he actually go there? And so freaking quickly? He may have gotten _waaaay_ hotter since I'd last seen him but obviously didn't mean he was less of an ass.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know _exactly _what I mean, Emma." He sneered at me. He braced himself for another of our arguments. He lifted his hand to point an accusatory finger and wave it in my face. "I told you—" he glanced at Connor for a second and, unable to determine whether or not he knew "—_something important_ about me and you _took off." _

I frowned at him. Lachlan had promised me that, while he wasn't going to tell Damon where I was, he would explain that I hadn't had a choice in leaving.

"Didn't you get the email?" I asked, quietening a bit.

Damon looked at me sarcastically. "Oh, right. The _email. _The one that said you didn't want to hear another thing from me because I was a _monster?" _

"What?"

We both paused for a moment as I stared at him in complete bewilderment. I had never said anything of the sort. He stared back at me, for the first time faltering as he looked at me. But in an instant his fire had returned and he frowned.

"The email, Emma. The one that you sent me telling me not to come looking for you because you never wanted to hear from me again."

I began to shake my head, slowly. "No. You must have got the wrong email." I said quickly. "I didn't send anything like that."

Damon nodded his head sarcastically, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. "Right. Now that you need help you didn't have anything to do with it."

I shook my head more hurriedly now. "I never had anything to do with it. I didn't send you that email."

He snorted derisively.

Defences rearing up, I scowled at him, wanting to be let out of this chair just so I could throw something heavy at him. "Well what about you, huh?" I said angrily. "With _your _email. Don't hang around and act all high and mighty, like you've changed your mind."

Damon rolled his eyes and looked at me tiredly. "What are you going on about?"

Yes. As soon as possible I would throw something at his stupidly beautiful face.

Maybe my shoe.

"You spent too much of your life cleaning up my messes and you're done with it?" I reminded. "Why are you still around then? To rub it in my nose?"

Damon was frowning at me. His angry face had slipped from his features a bit and he was looking at me with more sympathy than I'd seen in this entire exchange. He leant forward. "I didn't send you any emails, Emma. You sent me _one_ and I got the message. I didn't contact you again."

I swallowed. I wasn't really willing to stop looking at him—it took me seeing him again to realise just how much I missed being around him—but I did, turning my quizzical gaze to Connor.

"Did you...?"

Connor shook his head quickly. "I didn't have anything to do with you guys until six months after you, remember? If you wanna sort that out, I'd talk to Lachie..."

"What are you even doing here, anyway?" Damon asked curiously. His temper had abated and he seemed calmer—his hand was even beginning to untie the knots that held me to the chair. He made quick work of them.

I looked over my shoulder, checking for Katherine before recalling what had happened to her. "Your girlfriend came and paid us a visit in the Big City." I said with a sigh. "Look, she was tak—"

"She is not my girlfriend."

I forgot what I was in the middle of saying. Instead, I raised a curious brow.

"She said you loved her."

"Well, I don't."

There was another silence, during which I only stared at Damon. I could see the multitude of emotions flitting through his eyes—only it took a little more effort now. But I could see _something. _Since I'd been gone, _something_ had changed him.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Connor motioned to the restraints on his arms. While Damon moved to fiddle with the bonds around my ankles, I leaned across to help him with his right wrist.

"How're you doing?" I asked him slowly, ignoring Damon in front of me. I didn't know much about vampire hearing, but even a human wouldn't have needed to work hard if I'd tried whispering.

Connor shrugged slightly, his greasy ponytail swinging slightly. I leant away from it slightly, but Connor didn't notice. "I'm untied now—and officially entitled to be pissed with you."

I swallowed a bit nervously, nodding as the restraints around my feet came loose. I didn't move. "I get that," I said quickly. "I do... but can you be pissed with me and still, you know, not be weird. Damon's a bit..."

"Damon is right here, Emma." Damon interrupted me, rolling his eyes as he moved to help Connor with his feet. "Didn't I teach you not to talk about people when they're in the same room as you?"

I shot him a look, but from his display, Connor seemed to have got the message. He looked at me tiredly for a moment before sighing. "You can't just have me postpone my feelings, Em."

I nodded hurriedly. "I know, Con. I know—and you're totally right—I deserve to be yelled at—it's just—"

Damon lifted his head to the same level as Connor's eye line. He smiled slightly, his eyes scanning Connor's face. "We don't have time for you to be holding a grudge. So don't be an ass, save it for later, and get the hell out of that chair."

Connor promptly did so, finding that the binds from his ankles had been undone and he was as free as I was. However free that was... Damon looked at me again, his eyes contemplative, and I began to suspect that he wasn't just going to let me get away without a fight.

Feeling an odd sense of fulfilment again, I braced myself for the next of our arguments. I could think of snarky comments and sarcastic remarks easily—I hadn't really had anyone to verbally spar with over the past nineteen months and _goddamn _I'd missed him.

He held out his hands, helping me to my feet. Reaching into his pocket her dropped something in my hand.

A fifty dollar bill.

"Here's some money for a cab." He said slowly. "Take your friend, go into town and catch a bus." He pulled out his phone and dialled the number, quickly ordering us a car. When he hung up, I still hadn't moved. The bill felt heavy in my hand.

He looked at me a little sadly.

"Go home, Emma."

And then he was gone.

**.:.**

The bus ride back to the city was long and painful.

Sure, Connor was ignoring me and the bus was uncomfortable and filled with smelly looking old men and cute couples who were doing the bus tour of America's south and tourists who looked way to freaking entranced with the countryside—but that wasn't what made it painful.

Damon hadn't wanted me.

I'd been mentally kicking myself since he'd vanished. Fooling myself into believing that he might not have sent that stupid email had been entirely wishful thinking on my part. It wasn't fair that he do this to me. It had been nineteen months for god sake—I should have been well and truly over him.

But honestly?

Nineteen months had provided me with nothing more than a good bit of perspective. When he'd been the room everything had been clouded by him—I hadn't been able to think. I was reverting and I wasn't happy with it.

But why was I reverting?

Because when Damon was in the room he was all I could think about. My jealousy about him and Caroline? My anger whenever he left me and the sheer misery I'd fallen into whenever he wasn't around. Because Damon was my thoughts and I missed him.

And there was a good chance that until I got over him I wouldn't ever progress. I'd be the whiney seventeen year old for the rest of my life. Which left one option.

Damon couldn't be in my thoughts any more. I sure as hell wasn't in his and my teenaged possessiveness was bringing me down. I didn't need to dwell on him anymore—I had more important things to focus on.

Unfortunately, I couldn't focus on my most recent of epiphanies because Connor had decided that with me, in my depressed moment, was the perfect target for his hidden anger.

"I just don't understand how you could just _not _tell us." He was saying angrily. "I mean, we're supposed to be your friends."

"You are my friends," I protested instantly. "I didn't know that they were capable of _that. _I was just as confident as you guys."

"But you didn't even _tell _us. You didn't tell us that you knew a vampire? We were a group of people trying to _hunt _them and you were _raised _by one?"

For a moment, an ugly defence reared up inside me and I felt the urge to shout right back at him. Damon, while a vampire and probably a murderer and all those other terrifying things, was still the man who _had _raised me, and he hadn't done a bad job. While he may have lied and been gone a lot, I wasn't a bad person—and that was mostly because of Damon.

I was clearly doing really well on the whole 'epiphany' thing I'd just had. I swallowed the desire to yell at Connor and instead sighed, letting my head fall back to the uncomfortable head rest of these long time travelling buses.

"We were preparing ourselves to fight these things. You could have at least _told _us. We wouldn't have gone after him." Connor said stupidly.

My eyes snapped open and I scowled at him. This time, my defence had nothing to do with defending Damon and everything to do with defending myself. I twisted in my seat and frowned at him. He was sitting in the window seat, while I sat on the isle, so I could see out the window and to the countryside as I prepped myself.

"Right. You're allowed to get angry, Con, because I deserve it. I lied to you guys and I get why that has upset you. But I don't deserve to be lied back to, just so that you can have another argument. You know full well that if I'd told you about Damon, you would have all gotten angry at me—then got your guns blazing and stormed in there, leaving me behind while you tried to kill him."

Connor gaped at me. "No we—"

"_Stop it." _I told him, interrupting. "You know, it's a good thing I _didn't_ tell you because without me around I don't know what Damon's capable of. He could have killed you all if you attacked him—and I'm pretty sure that _Lachlan?" _

I paused, my gaze drawn from furiously replying to Connor to the white convertible I could see tearing down the opposite lane. Connor, not seeing what I was seeing frowned, confused.

"Are you done?" He asked, affronted. "Because if you are, I just think you should think about—"

I shushed him.

He stared at me like I'd slapped him across the face.

Rolling my eyes I pointed at the steadily approaching, all too familiar automobile—the while convertible that Lachlan had boasted about for days when he'd bought it. "No—_it's Lachlan." _I said quickly.

Connor frowned, turning to see the car, just as it swung by the bus at immediately high speeds. We twisted to follow its movement behind the bus until it disappeared.

"What the hell are they doing?" Connor demanded.

_Oh shit. _

**.:.**

_Nobody's POV_

"Do you have all the weapons?" Lachlan checked with Alex. His foot was almost completely pressed against the gas pedal and ever Alex was watching him nervously as he sped down the roads. Lachlan hadn't even provided time to pull the roof of the convertible up, and so their hair was flying crazily in the wind.

As Alex slowly moved the check the trunk at his feet again, Tara moved forward and rested a delicate hand on Lachlan's wrist. "Maybe we should just calm down," she advised him, soothingly. "If we get pulled over by the cops, it'll only take us more time to get to Emma and Connor."

Lachlan hesitantly lifted some of the pressure from the gas pedal. Alex pulled himself up, slamming the trunk close. "I agree." He said, nodding his head to Tara. "We don't even know if they're going to be in the hodunk town and we almost just collided with that bus back there." He glanced back to the road behind him to see that the bus itself had pulled over and he turned his exasperated gaze back to the front of the car. "They're probably calling the cops."

Far from discouraging Lachlan, this remark only made him press more firmly on the pedal. Tara shot Alex a tired look while Alex just groaned and leant back—ensuring that his seatbelt was holding him firmly in the car.

Gritting his teeth, Lachlan wasn't as concerned with their own safety. "We'll be long gone by the time they get here," he snarled. "And we'll have Emma and Connor back—that's all that matters."

When they'd called Emma's apartment and found that she hadn't been home since the evening previously, and that it had been Connor who'd called her into the office, Lachlan had leapt to immediate conclusions. Tara had still been assuring Cameron and Lily that their roommate was safe and well when Lachlan had pulled her roughly into the car and started the gas. The car was already moving away from the curb when Alex jumped over the side and into the back seat, with a metal trunk full of all their vampire hunting apparatus.

And since that was all that Lachlan had needed, it wasn't hard for the two unknowing passengers to jump to conclusions.

"You think a vamp has them?" Alex had checked as they drove through the big city. They'd been driving for hours know—but the trip must've been faster than it should've been if only because of the speed.

Lachlan had nodded his head roughly but said no more.

Now that they'd almost collided with a bus and pulled off an exit—suggesting that they were getting close—both Alex and Tara weren't just happy with guessing.

"How do you know that this vamp will have taken them here?" Tara asked quickly, her gaze narrowing on Lachlan.

Lachlan swallowed.

"Emma and I haven't been honest with you guys," he said slowly, his voice steady. "Well, I haven't really been honest with Emma either."

He let the explanation drop there, and Alex let out a growl of frustration. "_And?" _he demanded. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Lachlan cleared his throat, irritating both his passengers as he seemed more interested by the turns he had to take to get off the highway. "It means that Emma isn't just a girl who moved around a lot. She's been lying to you, and I've been lying to all of you—and it's come back to bite us in the ass."

Alex let out an angry groan and leant forward. Using some choice expletives to start, he leaned forward. "Look," he said, once he'd finished cursing. "You've said that already. What you haven't said is _what _you've been lying about. So freaking spill."

Only he didn't say 'freaking'.

Lachlan, rolling his eyes at the dramatics and clearly trying to stay nonchalant, sighed and nodded.

"Emma was raised by a vampire." He said. "She hasn't told you anything about him because I'm pretty sure she was in love with him—but he _was _a vampire, and I had to take her away from him."

Alex and Tara were silent; their mouths hanging open in similar masks of shock.

"He wasn't aware of her blood—for some reason that the devil only knows, he didn't hurt her—so my father had me watch the two of them. When I realised the _extent _of her feelings for him—even if she hadn't realised them yet—I got her out of there."

He paused from his explanation to glance at Tara and Alex again, sighing. "My father hasn't told me much about vampires—other than they're dangerous. But this is just _one _vampire—who was soft enough to look after a little girl when she was five. We can take him."

Alex and Tara remained silent for a good few minutes, before Alex cleared his now dry throat. Lachlan had continued to drive as his passengers had tried to digest his outburst and by the time Alex spoke, they had pulled into a long road that was now leading them past tall and green trees of the south.

"So you think he's got Connor and Emma?" He verified slowly, trying to think of past evidence of their deception. He was drawing up blank.

Lachlan nodded stoically.

Then he turned the car engine off. "We're close," he said, getting out of the car. "We go on foot from now on; otherwise they'll hear us coming." He divvied up the weapons to his still confused companions and then motioned for them to follow.

Before they could take a step, however, a large horn sounded in the air and a large bus came barrelling around the corner. Stopping mere inches from the side of Lachlan's convertible, the bus turned off its engines.

The doors opened and Emma stumbled out.

"There's something we have to tell you guys." She declared, glancing back at Connor—who was a strange shade of pale green from his seat at the driver's position. His hand shakily fell from the gear stick.

Alex and Lachlan both dropped the guns they had aimed at the bus.

"I reckon so."

**.:.**

**So... what did you think? I get that that chapter might have been a little difficult to follow. Chronologically? Lachlan and co. Found of that Emma and Connor were gone, Damon and Emma argued, Damon told Emma to leave, Emma and Connor argued, saw Lachlan and co driving towards MF, and we find out that Lachie knows far more than Emma thinks he does. **

**Sorry about confusion. **

**Thoughts? I personally LOVED writing the Damon Emma scene at the beginning—mostly because they're so complicated and shiz—but I think the most important part was the epiphany that Emma had on the bus about how Damon was the reason she wasn't growing up. **

**Thoughts? **

**PLEASE review—you're responses thus far have been amazing and I love you all. **

**Cheersies, **

**G. **

**.:.**


	5. The Exchanges

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**xXxXx**

_Outside the Salvatore Mansion_

"Do you really think Bonnie can take on Klaus?"

Damon was asking more out of pure interest. He had no invested feelings for the witch and, considering the number of times she'd almost killed him, it seemed the feelings (or lack thereof) were mutual. Instead of being worried about the young Wicca, he found himself more concerned that Elena might not invite him into his house. Their relationship with an odd one at best and he wasn't going to delude himself into thinking that Elena wouldn't even make a joke of it.

Still, it was his home—had been for hundreds of years. And he didn't doubt that she would invite him in eventually. But there really wasn't any time for jokes like these anymore.

Stefan, on the other hand, seemed totally unconcerned about whether or not he'd make it into the house. And, when he began speaking about Bonnie, Damon knew his brother well enough to know that he was concerned.

"She said she could channel enough witches power to kill him." Stefan said, looking surprisingly nonchalant for the worry that Damon had detected in his voice. "Elijah thought that would work and he was an original so…" he let the statement trail off—the message was loud and clear.

"We just need to find him," Damon finished for him. Stefan muttered his agreement and Damon made his slow way over to his brother's side. Options were streaming through his head as he tried to figure out a clever way of doing this. "Could she do one of those witch-tracking spells?" He asked.

"Nope," Stefan said quickly, turning to lean on the stone ledge that surrounded their home—or _Elena's _home now, if you wanted to be literal. "Not without something that belonged to Klaus—believe me, I already asked."

With no more striking inspirations coming to him, Damon's mind was left to settle on other things. Emma—who was probably on her way back to the city by now. Her very brief visit to the town had left Damon's mind reeling with questions. If she hadn't sent that email than who had? And had someone sent her emails on his behalf? Why was she even here if she believed the email had come? And with Katherine?

Their conversation when Katherine had first reappeared in Mystic Falls had given him a lot to think about. He'd always wondered why Katherine had wanted Emma, but for a long time he'd supposed that he would never find out. Katherine was supposed to be dead, after all.

He vaguely wandered what he might've done to Emma if she'd still been around when he'd found out that Katherine wasn't pushing up daisies from inside that tomb. A part of him had been so glad that she wasn't around—and that she hadn't told him where she was.

But all those things aside, Katherine had been alive. And she had wanted Emma for a reason. And he'd been so obsessed with getting Katherine out of that tomb that he had never stuck around to figure out what it was.

But Emma seemed to be more important than he'd initially supposed. Especially if Katherine had wasted her time on her run from Klaus to track her down and capture her. In the moment—when he'd seen her again looking so incredibly _different_—he hadn't thought to ask her why Katherine had captured her and her geeky friend.

But he really shouldn't be thinking about Emma. She would be heading to the big city now—and she couldn't be on his list of priorities right now.

Maybe once this whole deal with Klaus was over…

Just as Damon was attempting to dismiss his confusing thoughts about his young charge, another question popped into his head. If Katherine had been so interested in figuring something out about Emma, then where the _hell _had she gone?

There really was only one obvious answer.

Struggling with the words, Damon felt an odd sense of regret as he finally managed to voice the question. "Do you think he killed her?"

Stefan was frowning again, as he turned to watch his brother wearily. "Katherine?" Damon's head turned quickly to face him and instantly Stefan moved to avoid his eye. "Probably."

Trying to figure out just what in the hell his emotional centre was trying to do to him, Damon swallowed.

"It's not like she didn't have it coming." He muttered. He quickly found that justifying Katherine's death wasn't a defence mechanism that would help him too much. Frowning about Freud and other stupid suppositions about emotional development, Damon fell silent beside his brother.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. "Thank you, Mr Henry," Elena said with a wide smile, shaking the man's hand. As she spoke both brothers pushed them away from the stone wall and walked towards their home.

Elena turned to keep going inside, apparently having forgotten about the entire reason she was the new owner of the house.

As the two collided with the invisible barrier across the threshold, Elena turned around with a guilty look on her face.

"I'm sorry, I completely forgot," she said, looking happy to be in a safe place. "Stefan, would you like to come inside my house?"

Damon twinged a bit at the sound of this house no longer being his. He swallowed as Stefan looked at him oddly, before stepping across the doorway. "I would love to, thank you."

Elena smirked at Damon.

"What are we twelve?" he asked, keeping a calm smile on his face.

"One of us is."

"If, I let you in—do you promise to obey the owner of this house?"

He very nearly snorted. Scrunching his face to a look of disbelief, he shook his head. "No."

"Seriously Damon, my way—you promised. I call the shots. No lies—so secret agendas. Remember?"

There was nothing like not being let in your own home to make someone just want to lie down on their own bed. Damon sighed, "Yes Elena. Su..." he trailed the end of the word off, frowning as an odd sound caught his ear. Stefan quirked a brow. Elena didn't notice.

"Then please Damon, come in."

Damon didn't move. Instead he turned around, all thoughts of going inside and relaxing lost. Despite the fact that their home was now far safer, he wasn't just going to leave the noise uninvestigated. He was away from the house in seconds. He knew that Stefan wouldn't follow until he'd made sure that Elena and Bonnie stayed inside the house. He was on his own, at least for a few minutes.

It didn't take him long to figure out the numbers. Five humans—three unrecognisable, one a bit familiar and the other—more familiar to him than the scent of Elena.

Cursing in his head, Damon slowly entered the valley whereupon a strange sight greeted his eyes. As he'd expected, Emma was there—with her dweeby friend goldilocks behind her. What took him off guard where the three human's he didn't know, all holding assorted weapons in their hands.

Oh, and the greyhound bus. That was a bit of a surprise as well.

As he entered, all attention fell on him. The boy with the blonde pony tail recognised him and stumbled back, falling inside the open doors of the large bus. The three with weapons turned to point them at him and Emma looked at him with a mixture of guilt and anger on her face.

Unconcerned by the weapons, Damon focused his attention on Emma.

"Why do you _never _do as you're told?"

**.:.**

_A few minutes earlier, a little to the east of the Salvatore Mansion. _

_Emma's POV_

"A bus?" Lachlan was staring at me with sheer incredulity spread across his features. "You stole a _bus?" _

I frowned slightly, still staggering from the ordeal through which Lachlan and I had gone through to make sure that Lachlan, Tara and Alex didn't kill themselves. Surely the police were at least catching up to us by now? All that we could depend on was that Mystic falls was small, and it might take them some time to catch some kids who'd hijacked a bus.

"We didn't steal a bus," I said, hastening down the steps and landing, somewhat clumsily, on the rough ground. "We _borrowed _it. And, technically, the bus driver."

Despite the fact that Connor had drove, we'd brought the bus driver with us just in case he wanted to take the bus back after we were done with it. I really hadn't thought that much through.

Connor made his way out of the bus behind me. He waved an angrily, disorientated hand at the driver (who seemed to get the message that we wanted him to stay on the bus) and despite the fact that he looked like he was going to throw up, glared at the guys. "It was important." He said slowly, leaning on the side of the bus to get his bearings. "Right Em?"

I wasn't really listening however. Because Tara and Alex hadn't lowered their weapons, despite knowing full well that it was _me _and _Connor_ in front of them, not some undisclosed threat.

"You guys alright?" I asked with a frown.

They were both scowling at me.

I guess I could take that as a no.

"What?" I asked.

"We know, Em." Tara said with a heavy voice. "Lachie told us everything—about your _lies._ Did you lure us here to die? Was that the plan?"

I shared a frantic look with Connor, who'd decided that he couldn't be bothered being angry with me anymore. We'd reached an agreement, where he understood that I had my reasons and I understood that those reasons were really just stupid. Plus, my mind was reeling on the first revelation of that sentence. I turned to look at Lachlan.

"You _knew?" _ I demanded.

Alex let out an annoyed sound while Tara scoffed in disbelief. I probably could have tackled some of their questions first, but _seriously? _

Lachlan had _known? _

Lachlan sighed. "Of course I knew. We'd known about Damon for a long time, but we thought there was a chance he was compelling you. As soon as we got the results of your first blood test we knew he couldn't have been and we got you out of there—just in time, as a matter of fact, considering what you'd been carrying."

I thought back to the night that Lachlan had pulled me away from my life—the bag of recently bought pig's blood shattering on the pavement as hands had grabbed me and yanked me into a white van.

I spluttered at him, unable to form words. "I—you—you _knew?"_

Lachlan rolled his eyes. "Look, Emma. I was happy enough for you to keep it as your little secret—it wasn't a huge deal. Until he came and took you back—took you away from us."

I'd never been completely and totally angry at Lachlan before. He'd always told me that everything he'd done was for my safety—and when I'd hit him in the head with that bat the first time I'd met him—it was more out of pure fear.

But now?

"What, took me away like you did?" I said quickly. "Damon would never have hurt me."

Lachlan scoffed derisively. "So he _didn't_ just abduct you?"

I shook my head quickly.

"No, he didn't. And don't you _dare_ get high and mighty about abducting people Lachlan."

"You just kidnapped a bus driver!"

I ignored that.

"You took me away from _my home_ and you made me trust you." I continued "you've been lying to me since day one, haven't you?"

Tara and Alex, who'd seemed happy to stay silent until now, both made more, indignant noises. "Yeah, let's talk about that, shall we Em?" Alex said angrily. "Lying? When were you going to tell us that you were _raised _by a _vampire?" _

I shook my head again, glaring at them—the human equivalent of raising my hackles. "It was none of your business. Knowing Damon didn't have any impact on my life—because he told me that he didn't want me."

Tara rolled her eyes. "You knew a vampire, Emma. That makes you like the enemy doesn't it?"

I turned an angry glare to her. "Look—I've already got this talk from Connor. I don't need it from you. You have _no _idea about Damon and what happened between Damon and I was none of your business. So freaking _back off." _

I didn't say freaking.

I turned my angry glare to Lachlan. "What was the plan—just show up and attack him? I suppose you know the truth about them—if you know so much."

For the first time, everyone else in the group looked confused. (Except for Connor, who still looked like he was about to vomit).

"The truth?" Tara echoed.

Lachlan was frowning at me slightly. "What truth, Emma?"

I let out a sigh. So they hadn't known. Connor and I had still been right to come and stop them all from this suicide mission against a creature that none of us knew anything about. Especially if it was Damon—he hadn't seemed happy to see me, and he certainly wouldn't be happy to know that I wasn't on my way away from here.

"Everything that we thought we knew about vampires is wrong." Connor said when I couldn't find the words myself. "They are far more powerful than we ever imagined and even all five of us, going up again _one_ would end in all of us dying."

He risked a careful glance around the space. "Which pretty much means that we need to get out of here," he finished nervously.

Alex and Tara let their weapons falls slightly. "What?" Alex demanded, confused. "What can they do?"

I was watching Lachlan's face closely, for any indication that he already knew about this. As far as I was concerned now, Lachlan was the bad guy. My _captor. _

But it seemed that he was as confused as everyone else. He was looking at the pressurised stake dispenser with confusion—as though this was the first time he'd considered that it could fail him.

"Emma." Tara said angrily. "_What can they do?" _she repeated.

I was saved the hassle of explaining when there was a sound from behind us. We all turned instantly to see Damon—and despite the fact that he'd saved me from having to talk—I couldn't help the feeling of dread and guilt that filled me when I saw him. And anger—but that was still mostly because of freaking Lachlan.

"Why do you _never _do as you're told?" Damon asked as he casually walked into the conversation. I wasn't sure how much he'd heard, but I really wasn't sure what he would do if he found out that these people who seemed to amuse him now had been stupid enough to think they could kill him.

But still the remark itself stung a little.

"This isn't about you Damon," I sneered, trying to pretend I didn't care about him and ending up sounding like a petulant child. Trying to ignore _that _uncomfortable reality, I turned to Lachlan. "We were all just leaving."

I could almost hear Damon frown. I'd known him long enough to know how he would react to something like that—something as embarrassing as my attempt to brush him off.

"Well, it is about me, Emma." Damon said slowly. "Because this is my land—even if the house doesn't belong to me anymore." He muttered the last part bitterly, and almost so that I couldn't hear what he was saying. Refocusing his attention, he watched me with a stony look. "What are you doing here, Emma?"

I swallowed. "We were really just leaving, Damon." I said quickly. "Look, I know you said you don't want me around anymore and I _get it._ Really. I'll go—and I'll take my friends with me."

Alex chose that very foolish second to lift his (useless) pressurised stake dispenser and fire.

We'd all excelled at target practice, and we knew exactly where to aim to get the heart. But as soon as I heard the puff of air that came with each shot, I knew that Alex's superior aim wasn't going to be a match for all the new vampire tricks I'd recently found out that Damon knew.

Sure enough, before I could even move, Damon had caught the stake in the air and was behind Alex, pressing the sharpened end at Alex's jugular. And it didn't look like he was going to stop.

"Oh god, Damon!" I screeched, rushing forward (remarkably slowly after the display of speed I'd just seen) and shaking my head. I stopped a couple of metres away, but stared wide eyed at Alex and Damon.

"Would you like to explain this, Emma?" He said. Everyone else had reacted in the same way I had. Thankfully, no one had been stupid enough to try and fire at him again.

"Please don't," I said, knowing that I would never be angry enough at these people to wish them dead. "He didn't know what was—he wouldn't—I mean—"

Damon pulled back slightly, his eyes flaming, to analyse the stake. "Seems to me he knew exactly what he was dealing with."

"They thought you took me." I tried to quickly explain. "They thought that you had taken me and that you were going to hurt Connor and me and they came to try and rescue us."

That was enough for Damon to back off, but we all remained on high alert. As he stepped away from Alex's neck, he threw the stake into the air and twirled it slightly. "With these things? Your _toys?" _

I nodded my head. "They didn't really know what they were thinking." I said. "But Connor and I came back to stop them—which is why we're here. And now, we're _leaving." _

Lachlan turned his confused look to us. "If your boy here didn't take you two, who did?" He asked.

"Her _boy?" _

I kept one eye on the incredulous Damon as I approached Lachlan. He'd seemed beyond shocked by the abilities that Damon possessed and didn't seem stupid enough to try and do anything else. "Another vampire," I said quickly. "She found the readings on my blood and she wanted to know about them."

As soon as I'd said it I picked up on Lachlan's urgent gaze—that seemed to be trying to tell me to shut up. Damon seemed to have started.

"Your blood?" He echoed, leaning forward. "Why did Katherine have readings on your blood?"

I thought to the slip of paper that Katherine had taken with her when she'd gone to make her phone call. She probably still had it.

"Who's Katherine?" Alex asked croakily, his throat obviously sore from the death grip that Damon had had on it only moments ago.

"Everyone _shut up."_ I said quickly. Before I could get much further than that however, Stefan made his sudden appearance and everyone shrieked again. Except for Damon, who rolled his eyes.

"What's going on?" Stefan asked Damon. They were obviously displaying a closer relationship than the one I'd left them with. He was watching me oddly, his eyes narrowed in the same way they'd always been when we'd spoken. Like he was trying to figure me out.

Damon turned his sweet smirk to me. "Emma was just about to clear that up for us."

Before I could do so however, the bus driver that Connor had been watching stumbled out of the bus. He looked at us all frantically.

"You're all insane!" He shouted at us. "You'll all be in mental asylums for the rest of your lives after my testimony." Then he turned to run.

Despite the fact that he was a young man (well, no. He was young for a _bus driver)_ he barely made it more than two feet before Stefan was in front of him, and grasping him tightly by the arm. "Damon?" he asked.

Damon nodded, and Stefan pushed the man gently in his brother's direction. Damon caught the man and held him by both the shoulders, leaning forward. "You will tell the police that the two people who took you and your bus were two blonde girls—" he smirked slightly, glancing at Connor "—and they took the bus south. They let you go and then sent you back to the highway—do you understand? You will not remember _any _of this."

To our horror, the bus driver merely repeated these instructions before getting back on the bus. Then he promptly turned the bus in a large, careful circle and headed away.

"What did you just do?" I said slowly, my voice hoarse.

Damon rolled his eyes. "I cleaned up your mess." He said coldly—"honestly, you stole a _bus?" _

I gaped at him. "What did you do to him?" I demanded.

Stefan interrupted. "Everyone—we're going back to the mansion." He turned to Lachlan and held out a hand. "Keys?"

More quickly than I'd ever seen him do anything, Lachlan gave him the keys.

Stefan jumped in the white car and drove off, in the direction that both Stefan and Damon had come from.

"What if we don't want to go with you?" Tara challenged Damon.

Damon smiled sweetly at her. "Then I'll stop being nice and rip your intestines out through your nostrils." He said kindly.

They quickly fell into line. I felt like throwing up—my face probably the same shade as Connors.

Damon walked silently beside me.

"That thing..." I swallowed, trying not to succumb to the dizziness. "That you did to the bus driver." I looked up at him, unable to even try to stop myself looking like the needy little girl that I'd always been with Damon. "Did you ever do that to me?"

Damon looked at me with a blank expression. "Never."

**.:.**

**Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter—and for not giving up on me because I really **_**hated **_**it. I really liked this chapter (typed the whole thing up in about an hour) and I'm going to do the next one now. I'm on a two week break which means I can at least start amassing some chapters now and can hopefully update more often. **

**The reviews have been great—but it was as though half of you stopped reviewing for the last chapter? Did I do something wrong? I would really love as much feedback as possible from you guys because I'm quite worried about the way Emma and Damon are going to sort things out. **

**Also, I know that a lot of you aren't fans of Emma. But I think when I created her she was supposed to be an annoying little girl. This story is definitely a facility for her to develop and I want to get your feedback on that. Try not to be scared away by her **

**We haven't had much Cameron (and I feel really bad for leaving him out because I always loved him) but we finally had some confrontation and an insight into the lies that have been exchanged thus far. Plus, I do enjoy writing from Damon's 'POV' (kind of) and I would love to know if you think I'm doing an alright job. **

**Anyway, thanks for all the attention you've given this fic so far, and please keep it up! (Also, only the really dedicated reviewers/readers read monster Author's Notes like these, so bravo!) **

**Cheers, **

**G. **


	6. The Mansion

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

Nb: Nothing to report ATM. See lower A/N

**xXxXx**

Klaus moved Alaric's body in a way that the school teacher had never been able to. With a confident swagger and a smirk gracing his features, Katherine didn't have to know who was behind the mask to be worried by it. On the other hand, she couldn't focus on this—she _had _to find a way out of here, and _quick. _

"Ugh, who is this guy? Safari Sam?"

She refocused her attention as Klaus returned, holding two of Alaric's suitably small town flannies. "Okay," he said, walking into her line of site and hiding up one of the shirts. "Bad, or badder?" As he swapped them across his torso he smirked at her. The casualty with which he was treating her was only more intimidating and she wasn't even sure she was doing it on purpose.

"The dark colours suit you," she said. It was always smarter to go with the truth when dealing with psychopaths. (She should know).

"Aw, thank you, honey." He tossed the other shirt on the bed and began to prepare himself. "Okay, pop quiz—the dagger and the white ash are in the Salvatore's possession, correct?"

"The dagger was used to kill Elijah," Katherine said quickly. "You'll find him in the basement of the Salvatore House."

The fear that he had rattling through her was enough to make her compliant (and it was also a little exhilarating. She hadn't been _this _scared in a long time. Maybe she needed this—if she escaped it would be good to remember what she was running from).

"Okay, that dagger needs to stay _exactly _where it is," Klaus decided, adjusting the collar of the shirt. "The last thing I need to do is resurrect Elijah." He sighed, "God, that guy's a buzz kill."

"And don't forget you're on the outs with your girlfriend Jenna," Katherine added. Maybe helping him out would persuade him to be merciful. A quick death was still a death, but it wasn't the never ending she knew that Klaus was capable of.

"Ah yes, Elena's aunt—for all the lies about Isobel. What else?"

"That's it."

Yep. She hadn't known fear like this in a _long _time.

She inhaled sharply when he ran a gently hand through her hair. "So jumpy..." he observed with a sigh.

"Kill me," she said quickly, not wanting to hear her taunt her further. "I've told you everything I know."

Klaus pulled her abruptly to her feet. He would never be threatened by her, and he knew that he didn't need to bind her to keep her in the house. He was right, of course. An escape attempt now would only make him torture her for maybe an extra fifty years.

He delicately pressed one of his hands into her left pocket and she flinched. Of course he would have noticed, and she suddenly realised how foolish it was to hide something so trivial from him.

"What is this then, Katarina?" He questioned, pulling out the paper. Hopefully the scribbled markings and the numbers that showed the results from Emma Briggs/Hamilton's blood test would be something that Klaus couldn't read.

"I didn't think it was important." Katherine scrambled for an excuse. "It's the results of a blood test from a girl in New York," she explained. "She's not related to you at all."

"If it wasn't important, why did you keep it from me?" he asked, waving the paper in her face.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I didn't mean to keep it from you. I had forgotten about it."

Klaus watched her closely before frowning. Pushing her back into the seat he scowled. "What do the numbers mean?" he asked.

"It was to see how much vervain in the blood affected me."

Klaus shook his head. "You don't need to know, Katherine. You've been drinking it—or ingesting it. I can smell it on you." He reached into her back pocket and for a moment, Katherine thought he might have bought it—until he forced the small knife into the top of her thigh, which as enough force to push it into the hilt. Katherine let out a shout of surprised pain. "I haven't been around for this long without learning to read equations." Klaus said, calmly. "Would you like to try _the truth_, this time?"

He twisted the knife and Katherine let out another shout.

"Why do you have a human running around with vervain _occurring_ in their blood?" he asked, terrifyingly cool. "_Naturally?" _he added, just to make sure there wasn't any confusion.

Katherine let out a nervous wet noise, as he lifted the pressure from her leg. The knife remained in there, however, and her borrowed blood continued to drip from the wound.

"I found her in New York, in 1993," she gasped out. "I wasn't supposed to be alive so I had Damon watch her—she left him last year, but she's been investigating her own blood. I think it's doing something to her, because she was trying to find a way to get it out."

She gasped as Klaus reached down and pulled the knife abruptly from her knee, only to wipe the blood on his jeans and push the blade into Katherine's shaking hand. She watched with an open mouth as the wound closed itself.

Klaus scowled at her. "And where is this girl now?"

"Her name is Emma Hamilton." Katherine coughed, the knife shaking in her own hand. Klaus hovered close enough to her to make a part of her believe she might just be able to slice him. But she forced that part away and ignored it. To do something stupid like that would just be stupid. And she was no _Elena Gilbert_ so that wasn't an option. "She goes by Emma Briggs now. She's either on the way back to the big city—or she's with the Salvatores."

Klaus considered that again and paused. Then he sighed. "That's a problem—but one that I can deal with later." He leant forward and frowned. "If that's all that you know, what about the stuff they didn't want you to know?"

Even worried about what Klaus was going to make her do with that knife, Katherine couldn't resist the compulsion and quickly told Klaus everything that she had guessed about what she wasn't supposed to know.

**.:.**

_Emma's POV._

"Okay, dude—you put me in a _hotel."_

As I stared around the what seemed to be the cavernous front room of the mansion that Damon apparently owner (or didn't own—he'd been muttering about it as we made our slow way back here) I turned to give him an incredulous look. This place was amazing—and _huge—_and he'd had me set up in a tiny cheap hotel room.

He only rolled his eyes, brushing past me as he walked into the next room (which, as I could now see, was even larger). Unfortunately, his moving left me alone in the middle of a group of people who were far less than happy with me at the moment. While they'd certainly been silenced by Damon's intimidating presence, as soon as he was out of human earshot (though I had no doubt that he could still hear us) they turned on me.

"This is your guardian?" Tara hissed at me. "The one you were so keen on protecting?"

"Congratulations, Em," Alex was scowling, "you've killed us."

Still keeping my eyes pressed to the back of Damon's head, I clenched my teeth and fists. "You know what, guys?" I hissed right back. "I came here to stop you guys _killing_ yourselves—maybe you could just _thank_ me, instead of—"

"_Thank you?_" Tara echoed incredulously. "Emma. You're palling around with a _vampire_ in your spare time, have him taking us away and you want us to thank you?"

Damon stopped suddenly. "Right." He said quickly, turning around and moving forward. He stepped close to both Alex and Tara, who, despite their complaints, weren't just going to back away. Invading their personal space, Damon's eyes flashed as he leant even closer.

"First things first—Emma doesn't have me doing _anything._" He said stonily. I watched Alex's throat bob as he swallowed. "And you are here because you are a bunch of stupid children who thought that they could be the next Scooby gang."

It was only because of the episodes of Buffy that I'd watched with Cameron that I knew the reference. For reasons that I hadn't known that the time, Damon had suggested that I don't watch the show when he'd been around.

Alex and Tara kept their gaze firmly on Damon, but when he turned his head to the side slightly and moved even closer they finally backed down. Taking a simultaneous step backwards, Tara looked to her feet while Alex just looked past Damon's head.

He didn't look like _he _was going to back down any time soon, so I stepped forward. "Damon—?"

I was interrupted by another voice—"Damon?" Hers was a softer, recognisable voice that I remembered far too vividly. Only, before I could turn around and confront the vampire who had recently kidnapped me, I had time to register Damon's reaction.

He backed off instantly.

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

Turning around, thinking about my earlier resolution, I only verified that Katherine was standing behind me before spinning my angry expression back to Damon. "What the _hell _is she doing here? I thought you said you didn't like her." I said indignantly.

Damon rolled his eyes and ignored me, moving forward and pushing the rest of us into the large room. My expressions of distaste, however, caught the attention of the pretty vampire.

"Katherine?" Katherine echoed. She looked straight to me. "You know Katherine."

For a moment, my head just spun a little. Trying to regain my footing, Damon seemed to notice my confusion and rolled his eyes. "Emma Hamilton—you remember Elena Gilbert?"

Connor swore.

Tara and Alex both looked at me and Connor (who were staring at Elena in shock) in confusion—while keeping the angry grimace on their features and creating an odd sort of mix between the two.

Lachie continued to look shocked and stunted as thoughts whizzed through his head.

"You—you look _exactly _like her." I said with my throat suddenly dry. "Not even like twins—you're _exactly _the same."

I stared at her for a moment.

"Are you a vampire too?" I quickly asked.

Elena looked at me curiously for a moment before smiling slightly. Chuckling to herself, she gently shook her head. "No," she said quickly. "You're not either."

Not entirely sure whether or not that was a question or a statement, I swallowed and said nothing. Elena seemed to think that was amusing, but quickly turned an angry scowl on Damon.

"What are you doing?" She demanded.

Damon slung an arm over my shoulder and smirked slightly. "Just catching up with old friends, 'Lena," he said with a grin.

I had frozen under his arm, my pulse speeding up. I flushed hurriedly realising that he could probably tell with all his vampiric magic powers. I wondered slightly if there was anything that he couldn't do. I considered asking him if he could read minds or see the future but he'd always had a problem with Twilight.

Elena watched him suspiciously for a moment before sighing and letting it drop. She turned to me and gave me a warning look. "Don't let him do anything stupid," she said.

"Pff, as if she could do anything" said Damon with a roll of the eyes.

I still couldn't really bring myself to breath normally, and his nonchalance wasn't helping. Pulling myself away from under his arm I laughed nervously. "I'll work on that," I assured her, moving away and standing beside Lachie and Connor.

They'd both been oddly silent since Damon's display. Lachie seemed a bit numb, to be honest. And Connor's allergies, having calmed on our way back to the city, had returned with a renewed vigour. He was the only one who wasn't still angry with me, so I found some solace when he reached out and gently squeezed my hand.

Lachie, who I was still angry with (and had appeared to still be angry with me), did the same on my other side. It was comforting, even if I wanted shout and yell at him. But my moving meant that Elena and Damon could focus on their exchange.

Another girl entered, with Stefan walking out. He was watching this girl—who I recognised slightly from school, but not to the point of being able to remember her name. Names were popping up in my head though—Madison or Nicole or—

"Thanks Bonnie."

Right. Sure. Bonnie.

Elena swung the bag that Bonnie had given her over her shoulder and smiled. Bonnie did the same with her own bag and when Stefan asked where they were going, Elena replied that they had school. I'd dropped out so long ago that I'd almost forgotten that people my age were still supposed to be at school.

Instantly, Damon and Stefan voiced protestations.

"No, no, no.' Damon said, "we didn't create a safe house for you to leave it."

A safe house?

"A safe house?" Tara echoed quietly.

Damon pursued his lips while Stefan surveyed us all with an unimpressed look. As his gaze brushed over me, I was reminded that he'd never much liked me. I swallowed and looked at my own feet.

"If you could move our guests, Damon?" Stefan suggested coolly, turning to keep his gaze trained on Elena and Bonnie as they watched him with tired, bored eyes. Despite not being privy to the conversation, I had no doubts that they wouldn't go down without a fight.

Of course, Damon was already directing us away from his brother and the two other girls (who were palling around with vampires, evidentially annoying Tara and Alex as much as my relationship had).

"What is wrong with the people in this town?" Alex muttered to Tara as they walked through the large rooms.

I was too busy to worry about them being angry with me for the moment. My mind was spinning—thinking about the safe house, and Katherine Pierce and Elena looking _exactly _the same, and Stefan and Damon civil with each other, and while I thought about it all the look on Damon's face when Elena had spoken to him whizzed in front of my eyes.

I squeezed Connor's arm more tightly.

Damon didn't linger after placing us, and with a quick excuse, made his way back out to the foyer, where Elena and Stefan were still arguing.

It left the five of us in a remarkably uncomfortable silence.

I looked straight to Lachie, who hadn't said or done anything since we'd entered the house—save for holding my arm. "You alright, Lachs?" I asked, a bit confused as I was still completely within my rights to be angry with him.

He swallowed dryly and then looked at me.

"How could we not know?" He demanded his voice hoarse. "About vampires. How could they—how could he have just let us go around not knowing anything?"

He was talking about his father. I'd never met the man—I'd never actually been told his first name. He was just Lachie's dad, and the guy who had, at one point, been my father's best friend. He was the best man at my parent's wedding (Lachie had been the ring bearer). But outside of that friend—there was the man who had taken over the Fourth when my parents had died—and the man who'd tried to adopt me relentlessly since their deaths.

I still didn't know how Damon had gotten around that one.

But, the question that was plaguing Lachie had been bothering me as well. I could understand how I could be left in the dark about the capabilities of vampires—the ones that we'd never even considered before. And the same went for Tara, Alex and Connor. We were amateurs—who were hired, or only here because of family connections.

Lachie was the son of the guy in charge.

And there wasn't a doubt in my mind that he dad—and the people who worked with him—were as in the dark as we had been.

"It doesn't make any sense," Lachlan struggled to express himself, lifting a shaking hand and running it through his blonde hair. "He _must _know. He can't _not _know. And he didn't tell me?"

It must have been stinging. Lachlan looked like a confused combination of angry, indignant and suspicious as he tried to sort the thoughts in his head.

"He must have had a reason." Connor stepped forward and assured him. "Maybe he thought that we should learn the basics first or something."

Lachlan looked up with an expression of distorted pain. "We thought we were ready, Con," he said with a scratchy voice. "We were about to go out and start _looking _for these things." His face paled (as did the rest of ours) when we all thought of the reality of that situation. Had Katherine not kidnapped Connor and me, there was a very good chance we'd all be dead by now.

Trying not to think about it, I let myself sit in the large leather lounge that Damon had left to us. Alex and Tara, who, despite still giving off an aura of contempt, seemed to have calmed slightly and they too sunk into the couch.

"Well, what do we know?" Alex said. "About them now?"

"They're fast," said Connor. "_Really_ fast. And they have some sort of power over the mind that lets them control people. They're strong—and they're senses seem to be far better than ours. Enhanced, maybe."

Tara shot me a confused look. "Does your vampire know about you?" She asked quickly. The question didn't seem hostile this time—she seemed to have decided to stop thinking about her anger and instead focus on the realities of the situation we'd gotten ourselves into.

"He's not my vampire," I said quickly, flushing again. "And no," I said, focusing on the question itself. "I don't think he knows."

Alex leaned forward. He too, had obviously decided to put his resentment on hold. "What about the vamp that took you and Con?" He asked. "Did they know?"

I nodded, but Connor was the one to respond. "She found the data list from the latest blood test," he said quickly. "But it looks like she's known for a while."

Everyone frowned—even Lachlan, who pulled his thoughts away from his father for a moment to consider me with a puzzled expression. I thought back to when Connor and I had been tried to the chairs, and that Katherine bitch had been walking around like she owned the place. Thinking back to the conversation reminded me of the revelations she'd told me—the ones about...

"I think she killed my parents." I said quietly. The hint of resentment that had remained on Tara and Alex's faces vanished. Lachlan dropped expression from his face and stared at me blankly. Connor squeezed my hand again. "Or, she knows something about who did." I said. I looked up to Lachie. "She's the reason Damon took me in," I told him. "She told him to, and apparently he was in love with her or something."

"Vampires can love?"

"Completely and passionately," Damon said—his voice making us all jump and I flushed, wondering how long he'd been standing at the door way. "More completely than you ever could."

I stared at him, shrinking into the seat. "You said you didn't love her."

Damon watched me for a moment. "No, Emma," he said, "I said I _don't_ love her." As he strutted into the space, he quickly changed the subject—ending the topic for discussion. "Now—what would you like me to do with you?"

I grimaced. "Best case?" I said. "You could let us go back to the city."

Damon shook his head quickly. "No." That was apparently not an option. "I want to know about whatever you think you should have been told—I'm hardly about to let a bunch of C-grade amateurs back onto the streets." He caught my eye, "especially if _you_'re involved."

I frowned at him but said nothing.

"So the question remains what I should do with you," continued Damon. "I can't just send you back—but I will abstain from killing any of you if you tell me what I need to know."

Tara and Alex glowered at him. My stomach had dropped out through my butt when I heard Damon talking about killing any of us so I wasn't going to be much help, and Lachie and Connor both decided to remain silent.

Damon sighed.

"I don't want to do this." He said, "But you've all made it very clear that you don't like me—so I won't be making any kind of effort."

The death threat seemed to have temporarily swayed Tara's tempers and she spoke next. "Even Emma?"

Damon's gaze swung to me—and we were both silent for an extra moment. Not looking away, Damon wet his lips and frowned.

"Emma Hamilton has made it very clear that she doesn't want me—I'm a _monster_, you see." He explained to the others.

"I did _not _call you that." I protested instantly.

No one payed me any attention. Tara and Alex turned incredulous gazes to me. "Hamilton?" Alex said angrily. "You gave us a fake _name." _

Lachlan came to my rescue then. "I gave her a fake name, guys—so lay off. I thought it would be better if unsavoury people couldn't find her with ease."

Damon narrowed his eyes at him. "Unsavoury people like me?"

Lachlan didn't back down. "my father and I spent too long of our lives trying to clean up this _mess _that you created," he said accusingly, "and I was done with it."

It wasn't a hard connection to make. Hell, the email that Damon had sent me had been there for more than a year, and I had read it once at least every week. I knew it off by heart. I could quote it to you. I knew the exact words and letters that Damon had strung together to break me.

_I've spent too long of my life trying to clean your messes and I'm done with it._

Or at least I thought it was Damon.

But the oddness of that sentence? It was either too _much _of my life, or I've spent _too long. _Not a combination of both.

Damon had never said anything like it before. But what were the chances of Lachlan just happening to share a rare phrase with Damon.

Fury that I'd only ever directed at Damon before welled up inside me and I threw a clumsy punch in his direction.

"You _asshole!" _I shouted at him. "You're the one who sent those freaking messages aren't you!

Damon, who'd looked like he might intercept what was about to happen, froze—and turned his gaze to me. "What?" He said, coldly and quickly.

I pointed an accusatory finger at the boy I'd previously been comforting. "_That!" _I said angrily. "That's exactly what you said to me in your email. You told me that you'd cleaned up my messes all your life and you were done with it."

Damon's brow furrowed and he turned to Lachlan, coldly.

"Excuse us for a moment, Emma." He said slowly. Before I knew what was happening, he'd moved me. I was outside of the large room and he was closing the door behind me before I could even protest.

Not that I was going to protest. Good riddance, a part of me screamed. Damon would tell him how it was and Lachlan would finally understand exactly what he'd shattered by making me think that Damon hated him.

Did that mean that Damon didn't hate me? He certainly thought I'd hated him, but I couldn't. So—

It wasn't until Tara screamed, and my fury had abated that I realised what I'd just done. I'd left Damon, a vampire, alone in a group of people that he felt no particular connection to. And he's always had a temper.

And an odd impulsiveness.

I hammered my fist down against the door that he'd locked. But it didn't sound like they'd heard me. I continued to shout and scream and try to get their attention over the din that was Tara's screams and Alex's shouts of denial.

I threw my fist against the door once more—only to hear the sound of a dead weight being thrown against the other side and I froze.

**.:.**

**Clifffhhhaannngggeer.**

**God I'm a pain.**

**And I'm going to be more of a pain. **

**I have been updating on a semi-regular scale (far better than with TA, anyway) and I have been trying to move this plot along. This is not helped by me thinking that people are steadily getting less and less interested in this story. I'm having huge problems with it atm, and if there isn't an audience, I won't bother fixing those problems. **

**So, show me that you are interested by reviewing. It doesn't take time, and it isn't difficult. And I got seven reviews last chapter from a huge seven hundred people who read it. **

**That 1/100 people reviewing. And I'm a selfish person. I like reviews. I write more with more reviews, and I'm not afraid to ask for more. I also NEED the feedback. **

**So EVERYONE WHO HAS GOT THIS FAR, THROUGH THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE, take a minute of day to press that button and write a few words for me. **

**PLEASE. **

**G **

**(Sorry for the over load. I've had a really bad last few days). **

La dolce vita the good life :S


	7. The Reunion

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

Nb: _Katie68_ asked me whether or not Emma had any special powers, as well as the vervain that's in her system because she survived losing a lot of blood when her parents died. For the record, Emma isn't a 'healer' or extra tough than any human. On the _ other _hand, I did mention that the vervain was doing something to her system—so just keep on the lookout for that :P (hint, hint—see? it pays to read these things)

_Marina164509_ also referred to my gang of misfit vampire hunters as the Scooby gang which made me incredibly happy (even though I'd joked about it earlier). Would anyone see it as plagiarism if I had Damon refer to them as the Scooby gang again? I feel like I'm stealing too much from Buffy (_the initiative, the scoobies,_ etc)

Big thanks _to Azalia Fox Knightling, Hailey-Stone, Katie68, Laura, TerraNova, GirlAtTheRockshow, Christy, shippolove844, Sherrie H, Rae, May-Flowers99, Naida of the Rain, Kara, Moodyno1, Shadowcat7694, Marina164509_ and_ Sanjana_ for their incredible reviews. (Sorry that I don't reply to reviews, but I've been trying to get it fixed. I'll give you all a heads up when I can :P For the moment, know that you're all incredible, and I'll try to answer all major questions in the Nb. Section).

(A section which is colossal, this chapter. Do you even have the energy to read the chapter? I hope so!)

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

It was only a stroke of luck that after I'd hammered my fists against the door, given up and finally slid down the door, leaning on it in defeat—that the lock clicked open. I wasn't going to fool myself into wasting time and trying to figure out exactly why the shifted pressure had opened the door and instead pushed myself back to my feet and hurried through the door.

What then greeted my eyes was not a pretty sight.

Well, really, it wasn't a sight at all.

I frowned, walking into the wrecked room. Everyone except for Damon and Lachie were moving, picking up the seat that had been tossed onto it's back in some kind of struggle and were moving to seat themselves. I tried not to focus on the disconcerting numbness that seemed to be one everyone's faces now—Alex, and Tara and Connor had their eyes open, but it didn't look like they were seeing at all.

Instead, I shifted my focus to the bleeding Lachlan. His nose was crooked, I noted first, and his blonde hair was matted with blood. As no one else looked remotely injured, I could only assume it was his own. Looking at the colour in his otherwise golden hair, I quickly reminded myself that we were in a house full of _vampires. _

"_Jesus," _I exhaled, quickly moving forward. I was beside him in a minute, and ignoring the temptation to hit him again for what he'd done to me and Damon. But I wasn't some teenager any more (well, psychologically, anyway). I could shift my priorities and I could make sure that he wasn't going to die before I tore him to pieces for his lies.

Lachlan groaned a bit. "I'm sorry —" he gasped, through the blood that was running from his noise down into his mouth. I cringed slightly, just being able to smell his breath from where I stood.

"Shut up," Damon said, from where he appeared behind the couch. He hadn't been there when Connor and Alex and Tara had been doing their crazy zombie thing—but he was there now. Pouring himself a cup of alcohol. As soon as I saw him, with smears of blood on his knuckles, I swallowed.

Nervously, I turned again to look at Lachlan more closely.

Specifically his neck.

I almost didn't want to look. Until today, I'd known that Damon was a vampire, but I'd never actually thought of his as a _vampire. _A blood sucking, people killing machine. If he'd bit Lachlan, and I could see it, I didn't know how I'd ever look at him again. He was one of the most trusted people in my life—I was looking before I could help myself.

Before the word '_hypocrite' _could even register in my mind I was breathing a sigh of relief. Lachie's neck was unmarred, and it seemed that despite causing him serious damage, Damon had left Lachlan's blood inside his system.

"This really is the _worst _bunch of vampire hunters I have ever met in my life." He continued casually, sipping from the cup as he rounded the sofa. He looked once again at my three unmoving friends on the couch and rolled his eyes. Taking another sip, he then walked over to where I'd somehow started supporting a dying Lachlan.

I shot him an angry look and he smirked. "Just as moody as ever then, Em?" He smirked. "I thought you'd have been glad to see this guy with a broken nose."

I just continued to glower at him. Letting out a loud groan, Damon threw his eyes to the high ceiling. "Oh _come on,_ Emma. Two minutes ago you were the one trying to hit him. I just did the job a little more effectively."

Glancing at Lachlan, I could see that much. While the broken nose, and the slightly blackened eye were the only physical signs of damage, the amount of weight that Lachlan was resting on me indicated that Damon hadn't really held back.

At least he was still alive, I reminded myself.

"Are you going to let us leave now?" I asked, ignoring the 'moody remark' and the way that Damon had seemingly warmed to me. I shifted slightly, so that Lachlan wasn't going to slowly push me over, and again Damon scoffed.

"Come here," he muttered, and before I could protest, he'd moved forward and pulled Lachie's weight away from me. Holding Lachlan up around the middle, he sighed. "I would like to speak with you." He said, looking me in the eye, some of his casual nonchalance vanishing.

I swallowed for the benefit of my suddenly dry throat.

"What are you going to do with him?" I asked suddenly, motioning to Lachlan—who looked a bit alarmed to be in Damon's grip, despite his current state of bloodied confusion.

Damon grinned. "Well, that would depend and what you and I have a chat about."

Swallowing again, I nervously nodded my head before reaching out to take Lachlan back from him. Damning my internal mood swings for feeling empathy for Lachlan so quickly, I was still upset when Damon moved, not letting me near him. "For the moment, I'll be putting your little ringleader in the basement*. He can't cause any more trouble in there, can he?"

I wasn't given the chance to answer before he'd vanished. Stepping back and letting out a little noise of surprise, I blinked a couple of times, trying to convince my head that his disappearing wasn't some indicator of a migraine coming on.

When I realised that Damon had obviously gone to do exactly what he'd told me, I moved forward, quickly hoping for some sort of response from my three immobile friends. "Guys?" I lifted a hopeful hand and waved it in front of their faces. Nothing.

I had just surmised that _clearly _Damon had done something to them as well, he was back in the room, at an uncomfortably close proximity.

"Like I said," he muttered, grasping my shoulders and gently moving me away. "Worst. Vampire hunters. _Ever."_ He smirked down at me. "Who goes out hunting vampires without vervain?"

I stiffened slightly.

Damon knew about vervain? The unfamiliar herb that just happened to be in my blood. The most useless thing in the world that just happened to keep me healthy? Damon caught my confused look and rolled his eyes. "It's a herb," he said quickly. "That is damaging to any and every vampire."

I felt my eyebrows as they almost short off my face. Thankfully, Damon had just turned away and missed it.

Vervain?

Vervain was damaging to vampires?

And we didn't _know?_

I was just realising that Lachlan's dad and my dad had obviously known far more than Lachlan and I now knew, when Damon gently grabbed my arm again. "In here," he directed me, pulling me into the room and then closing the door.

I hurried across the space, putting some much needed room between me and my ex-guardian. I looked up to see that he was frowning—he'd obviously noticed that I was putting space between us on purpose. "You dyed your hair." He observed.

I'd practically forgotten about my blonde hair. It'd been dyed a long time ago, and every month religiously since then. It was almost a habit now—as soon as the reddish roots of my normal hair reappeared, I got rid of them.

"And you changed your name again—Briggs, right?"

I flushed, ready to change the subject straight away. "Where did you put Lachlan?" I asked quickly, fidgeting almost automatically, looking at my heavily damaged nails (I'd always been a biter).

"I told you," Damon said, noting my change of subject and thankfully deciding to go with it. "In the basement."

"And, uhm... _did _he send the emails?"

Damon frowned slightly and began to move slowly towards me. I tensed slightly, not looking at him. "He did."

I flinched. Even if I'd known it was true I didn't want to think that Lachlan could have done that on purpose. That email. That _freaking _email had had me sitting in my room, crying my heart out for months and he'd known all about it. "Did he send on to you too?" I asked hoarsely.

Damon nodded.

Swallowing tightly, I frowned. "And what did yours say?"

Damon shrugged. "Oh the usual," he said casually, "I never want to see you again, I hate you, you're a monster." He shot me a sarcastic grin. "Exactly what a dying vampire wants to hear from the only person he's remotely trusted in years."

I swallowed again—not just trying to get rid of my dry throat, but also trying to hide the emotions that were welling up inside.

"What about yours?"

I thought back to the email that had clogged up my computer server since I'd gotten it. Knowing now that Damon hadn't actually said any of those words was throwing me slightly for a loop. Lachlan had done well in impersonating him, and the words that he'd written could have been Damon's as easily as they were his own.

"Just that I was a kid you didn't want to be responsible for anymore. And that I was getting in the way."

Saying it out loud, compared with the harsh words that Lachlan had sent to Damon from me, it sounded almost pathetic. Hearing that I was a burden was something I should have seen coming. Hearing that I hated him was something that Damon should have never had to confront.

"My condolences," Damon said dryly, obviously having picked up on this obvious different. "Your boy obviously cared more about your feelings than mine."

"He's not my boy." I said quickly, before thinking to what he'd actually said. No matter how much pain I'd gone through, there was no way I could imagine how much Damon might've gone through. Especially if he'd been denying his basest instinct by looking after me.

_He looked after you because she told him to. _

The voice in my head sounded like Lachlan, and I'd already had just about enough of his lectures for the day. But no matter how much I didn't want to hear his voice, the words of his had a point.

"Katherine told me you looked after me because you love her." I said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant but really sounding indignant and a little bit jealous.

"_Loved." _Damon corrected me, again. "I _loved _her."

Whatever. I didn't want to focus on the technicalities—especially when even the idea of Damon loving someone made me want to simultaneously hunt down that Katherine bitch and curl up into a ball and weep.

"Yeah—but that's why you did it, isn't it?" I continued, watching him closely. "Because she asked you to."

For a second, it seemed like Damon hesitated. But I quickly told myself that hesitating must not look like hesitating for a vampire—if they could do it so much quicker than we could. But he paused, or whatever, and then he nodded his head.

"She sired me," he said. "Or created me, or whatever Hollywood word you want to use. She's the vampire that made me—and I was in love with her. But then I found out that she was a two-timing, lying, evil, manipulative, bitchy bitch."

He paused.

I remained silent.

"Too many describing words?" He asked, when he decided what had sounded wrong with that sentence.

I let myself laugh, for a second, and in that second everything came flooding back to me. Everything that I'd missed about joking around with him, and watching movies with him and making him pick me up and hanging out with him, even if I never saw him as much as I wanted to.

Damn, I'd _missed _him.

In seconds I was hugging him. He didn't feel like I assumed a vampire felt like. I always thought that if I ever saw Damon again, it would be because he was there to kill me, and he'd be this rock hard statue of a vampire—like Edward Cullen. (Even if he was all kinds of stalker freak).

But he wasn't. He felt like he always had. Soft and warm and like Damon and I couldn't help it. Hugging him made me smile and I was laughing some more—like a crazy insane person. Then he was hugging me back, resting his chin on my head and wrapping me up in his Damon-y arms**.

"So you don't hate me?" he verified, as he flattened my hair—so it couldn't do anything weird like go into his mouth or up his nose.

I nodded but didn't stop hugging him.

"How old are you actually?" I asked, into his chest. He smelt nice as well—like clean laundry and designer t-shirts. I'd really forgotten how much of a _girl _he was.

Leaning back, but not really letting me go, he frowned at me.

"You really want to know?"

I swallowed, thinking about it. Well, the age different had freaked me out when he was some obscure 'twenty something' and I was a seventeen year old with a crush. Now that I was just eighteen—and he was obviously somewhere in his seventies to hundreds, I realised that I really shouldn't have been complaining.

Still, I nodded, and after a couple of seconds of watching me with calculating, narrow eyes, he nodded as well.

"One hundred and seventy one.***"

Trying to refrain from spluttering too much, I just took a moment to try and get my bearings. Once I was sure that I could think of _something_ to say back to that, I opened my mouth. "Right, so—yeah, I—you—uhm—_wow." _

He chuckled slightly.

I buried my head back in his shirt.

His chest shook slightly from the laughing but he didn't seem to want to stop hugging me. And I didn't want to stop hugging him. And for the first time in a long time, I was just hugging him because I missed him. Not because I was some deluded seventeen year old with a crush, and not because he was trying to apologise for something he really shouldn't have had to apologise for in the first place.

It was because I missed him. And I was only hugging him because I finally had him back and that meant that he didn't hate me and that—

That was just _great._

"What about you?" he said.

I frowned. "It really hasn't been that long since you last saw me—and I'm pretty sure I'm stull ageing normally..."

"I missed your eighteenth birthday." He said.

I hesitated.

He had. It had been a small affair a couple of months ago (in March, to be specific). I'd invited all my friends to the flat, and Lily had brought Spence and Cameron had brought one of his girls and we'd partied, eaten cake, gotten slightly tipsy and then Cameron and I had been allowed control of the television and had played lists and lists of Broadway musicals and sung along to them badly, and out of tune until we all passed out.

Sure it had been fun.

And Damon would never have let me sing along to 'One Song Glory' from RENT as many times as I did (because I had an uncharacteristic love for the musical and Damon really didn't).

But still. He had missed it.

I told him this and he chuckled. Then he finally let me out of his hug and I stepped back, grinning at him. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a black box—my phone, I quickly noticed.

"I found this on your fearless leader," he said. "I figured it was yours."

I looked at his quickly. "Is that a vampire thing?" I asked suddenly. "Can you like, touch something and then know everything about it? Like that guy in Heroes?"

Damon nodded. "Oh yeah—" he agreed, and just as my eyes were widening in surprise he lifted the phone in front of me and waved it. "And the inscription on the back."

I flushed and he chuckled slightly, tossing the phone in the air. I lunged to catch it, stumbling oddly and straightening to glare at him.

"We're not superheroes," Damon reminded me, with a smirk. "But I'm pretty close."

**.:.**

Now, Klaus loved his body. Really, he did. It had served him brilliantly in the past and it would serve him brilliantly again. He was only really away from it because he'd heard of Elijah being around and causing trouble with his doppelganger and he knew that he'd need the element of surprise.

_But_ there was something extremely fulfilling about stepping across the threshold of a home that he just couldn't get in his brilliant body. And for the moment, this odd school teacher with a bad fashion sense and a habit for choosing persistent women did the job brilliantly.

No sooner than when he was revelling in the brilliance of this subtle plan of his own (_mastery, it really was) _then was the Salvatore boy—Damon, the oldest—greeting him. "There you are," he said in an exasperated fashion, as though he'd been expecting Alaric to show his face sooner.

Closing the door behind him with a self satisfying click, Klaus swung the body around to face his audience.

Stefan looked exactly the same as he had in Chicago. Sure, when he'd first met him, the young vampire had grated slightly on his nerves but that was probably more because of the obvious devotion his sister held for him than anything else. Stefan Salvatore had grown on him, however, with his psychopathic tendencies shining above many others and his methods were _definitely _fascinating.

It had been a shame to wipe his memory. But, with any luck, there would come a time when he could remove the compulsion he'd put on his friend, and they could be back to terrorising the cities in no time.

But first...

The doppelganger.

He'd seen the first one. Katarina Petrova—who he'd first seen as a young human who he could manipulate until he got his final desire. To be the first of a super race was one thing—but to be the first _hybrid _werewolf-cross-vampire. There would be legends about him and him alone for years to come. Not to mention the overwhelming power that he knew he'd wield over everything else on this world.

Of course, then little Kat' turned out to be a mega-bitch, with a passion for survival that he would have admired had she not been creating such a hole in his plan. The knowledge that she was still in the school teacher's flat, plunging the knife into her knee again and again, was only remotely satisfying—but there was more fun to be had with her later.

But Elena.

_Elena. _

She was almost exactly the same. If what Katherine had told him was true (and it was) he knew that she held no particularly positive feelings for her identical ancestor, and yet the similarities were astounding. Surely, the Salvatore's couldn't see it. By the time they'd met the first doppelganger, she was the irritating little bitch that he'd inadvertently set free. The two young (_very young) _vampires wouldn't believe it if he said that Katherine had once been as sweet as their precious human.

And here she was. Already using those techniques that Katherine had mastered. She had a witch and two vampires ready to die to save her.

But he already had one Katherine Peirce. There was no way he was giving this girl the chance to become even more like her carbon copy.

Chuckling slightly, Klaus casually apologised. "Sorry I'm late," he said as he strolled deeper into the mansion.

He knew, from Katherine's information, who was in the circle. The two vampires, his old friend and the brother that had always kind of annoyed him, the witch, the doppelganger and—

"Who's this?" Klaus asked tightly, making a mental note to cut off one of Katherine's fingers when he returned—and also figure out how she'd weaselled this one around his mind compulsion.

Damon was standing beside a young girl—the same age as the witch and his _Elena. _She looked a bit nervous, but more angry than anything. Oddly, she seemed to gravitate towards Damon, leaning towards him and away from Stefan and the others. He'd always known that people usually liked Stefan more than Damon.

"Oh, right," Stefan spoke, leaning forward. "This is..." he trailed off—for a moment Klaus wondered if Stefan suspected something (he'd always been annoying quick on the uptake)—but he quickly realised that Stefan had only trailed off because he didn't know the answer himself.

"She's an old friend of mine." He turned to the blonde, who was watching the exchange with interest. Before Damon could get to the introductions, she'd stepped forward and jutted out her hand.

"Emma Hamilton," she said.

But by then, Klaus didn't even need to know her name. Stepping forward had given him all the information he needed. As soon as she was within the range of the school teacher's senses, Klaus smelt the pungent odour of vervain from her. It was pulsing around in her, infiltrating every part of her body—and if he wasn't mistaken it was doing something else to her systems. Something _new. _

He didn't focus on this now. So this was Damon Salvatore's young ward? The one that Katherine had conditioned he raise—the one with vervain that occurred naturally in her DNA?

All this ran through his mind in a millisecond, and he smiled as he stepped forward to grip her hand. What was this yuppie body's name again? Oh, right..

"Alaric Saltzman." He introduced himself with the teacher's charming smile (only improved upon by the person who was doing the controlling).

Elena did the rest. "He takes our history class," she cleared up. "Do you remember when Mr. Tanner died?"

Klaus watched as Emma swallowed thickly and nodded, quickly stepping back beside Damon and relaxing slightly. She was a tense girl, to say the least. And he would have to investigate her blood further.

But for now, Elena was the prize.

"I need you to put me down as a chaperone at the dance tonight." Damon said, directing the conversation in just the way that Klaus wanted it. "Klaus made his first move."

He refrained from grinning. Good god this was too easy. He'd considered, when arriving in this town, just compelling the two vampires (or killing them)********, killing her human friends and taking her. Without anyone to fight for her, this whole ritual would be so much easier. But then he'd heard the story—two brothers, in love with a girl that he was going to kill.

It was too tragic. And he just couldn't really resist. Killing them would be easy, and the fear on Elena's face would be maybe somewhat amusing. But then, he wouldn't be leaving them to an eternity of sadness? Plus, he needed Stefan in the long run anyway.

_Christ, this was fun. _

**.:.**

**So, Damon and Emma had their TALK. And they're **_**friends **_**again and I feel like I've finally done something nice for them because I've been a bit harsh on the both of them since the start of this fic. **

**Right. So the response to last chapter was amazing. But that doesn't mean you stop because you reviewed last chapter. Review EVERY chapter, ks? I mean it when I say that they motivate me to write. If it weren't for the people above who reviewed last chapter, you wouldn't be seeing this chapter now. (mostly because I was watching RENT and singing RENT and was wrapped up in that fanfic, even though NO ONE is reviewing that one *grumbles off in a corner somewhere*) **

**I am as moody as Emma guys. If the reviews stop, I'm going to get all upset and feel unwanted. HOWEVER, if they continue, so will updates. **

**Honest, I'd considered going no chapter eight until I get twenty five reviews—but I always get so pissed when I read author's doing that and I refuse to fall into that category of douchebaggery. So I will update again. **

**But please people. MOTIVATE me to do so. **

**(God, I'm a bad person... complain about it in reviews!) **

**Grace xx**

*** Just assume that even if **_**in **_**the basement, Lachlan hasn't been placed in the same place as Elijah's body. Because we just know he'd cause trouble with the knife and the ash. So he is in his own injured place, away from where he can wreak havoc, for the time being. **

**** Lol. The first time I typed that it autocorrected to 'Damon-y **_**arse' **_**and that made me larf. **

***** Found on 'Vampire Diaries Wiki' **

****** We've seen that Klaus is able to compel people in Ric's body right because he compelled Katherine to do that knife in the knee stuff? So it always struck me as odd the way Klaus approached it in these episodes. If I were a badass original vampire mofo I'd just have followed them to the dance, compelled Stefan and Damon to distract Bonnie, taken Elena and BOOM—hybrid. But whatevs floats his boat I suppose. **


	8. The Move

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

Nb: _AnnaBL _asked me if I would be a Klaus-basher. And, I'm sorry to all those of you who don't like him, but I LOVE him. I think that if I were to be murdered by a vampire werewolf hybrid, I'd want it to be him. So, no. I will not be bashing Klaus, because I actually think he's a great character. Also—he's really hot (I'm shallow like that).

Also, a couple of you commended me on finally killing off the rest of Emma's supposed 'Scooby Gang'. Unfortunately, I have to tell you that I didn't actually _kill_ them off. (If I mentioned them being dead, this is awkies). So, the state of Alex, Connor and Tara will be explained in this chapter.

**ONE MORE THING** (sorry!) I've finally planned this story out chapter by chapter and I can tell you that I plan for it to go into the gap between season 2 and 3 and to be about twentyish chapters long. Hope that's a good plan

Big thanks _to Laura, Eva, Your Story is Wonderful _(a dedication that I think is brilliant in a big way) _Silver980, Sonny13, Azalia Fox Knightling, Shippolove844, HeartlessVampireGirl, Marina164509, belleslvtr1867, May-Flowers99, This Looks Like a Job for Me, Shadowcat7694, Rae, chase83, mara, star78, __AnnaBL, Naida of the rain, Kagome-Chan, Tanya, VaraStar48, Laura, AndyStar56, Mariah23, Red, Quara _and _Freya_ for the wonderful reviews for the last chapter_. _

**xXxXx**

_Emma_

"Did you kill them?"

Damon and I were back in the first room he'd brought me to, and I sat in front of my friends, examining their vacant expressions. They hadn't moved since I'd first seen them in this position, and Lachie was still being held downstairs—in the basement. It seemed that that was acceptable behavior for vampires—and I suppose Damon could pull off the whole 'putting thy enemies in the basement' thing.

Damon reacted to the question oddly. Frowning slightly, he still somehow managed to display a hint of a smile as his eyes brushed across their immobile forms. "Didn't we cover this?" He asked.

I stared at him.

Damon sighed, and clapped his hands together. Moving forward, and crouching down to the same level that I was one, he too looked up at my friends. "They're compelled." He said. I continued to look at him blankly so he expanded. With a slightly humorous gesture to his eyes, he reminded me of the mind controlling thing that none of us had had any idea about. "I didn't know what to do with them, so I told them to sit still and shut up."

I looked closer at them. I could see their eyes—blinking as though they were awake. But their pupils didn't move—it was as though they weren't seeing me.

"Can you undo it?" I asked, after examining them for a moment further. Damon didn't respond so I pulled my gaze away from them and looked at him. "Damon?"

Damon was watching me with an analytical air. He paused for a second, his eyes finally stopping the scan of my face and resting at my eyes. "Do you want me to?"

I paused, the question throwing me.

_Did _I want Damon to? The automatic answer was of course. I wasn't going to leave my friends in the odd place of nothing that Damon had put them in. They were my friends, and they had trusted me—in my mind it was only fair how they were reacting to the revelation that I hadn't ever really been truthful with them.

But, then…

Was it safe for them to be let out of their state?

Could they leave—and for that matter—could I _stay? _

I looked at Damon sharply. Glancing only for a second at my friends on the couch, I leaned closer to him. "Can they hear me?"

"Not if I don't want them to."

I swallowed and nodded my head slowly.

I wanted to stay. More than anything. While I'd been furious initially, hearing that Damon didn't really want to see me dead and out of his life was probably the best news I could have ever gotten. And I had missed him—and I wasn't sure if he was something that I could give up again.

Another question struck me, and though a voice in my head reminded me that I was supposed to be getting over Damon, not desperately trying to find a way to stay with him, I couldn't help but ask it.

"What are you going to do with them?" I asked. "If I didn't know what to ask—what would you do with them?"

Again Damon paused before responding. It felt as though he was trying to predict my reactions to the answers he had in his head.

"Kill 'em."

I jerked back in surprise and let out that horrible noise that a mouse makes when it's been caught in a mouse trap. Damon instantly moved forward. "Kidding," he quickly reassured me. "That was a joke."

My heart, which had jumped to a speedily erratic pace as soon as he'd spoken, didn't seem to believe him.

Damon noticed and moved closer again, shifting slightly and reaching a hand to place it on my head. "Hey," he said slowly, "I thought you weren't scared of me."

I swallowed shakily, embarrassed that I'd reacted so suddenly but a bit indignant that he'd thought we could suddenly start joking about the deaths of my friends.

"Would you do it?" I asked quickly. "Would you kill them?"

Damon paused again, but this time, the silence seemed to take far too long, he surveyed me with a dark look, and he leant back slightly—his hand falling to rest on my wrist.

"Yes."

My heart continued to beat wildly and I took a deep breath, trying to slow it.

_You should hate him_, the voice reminded me and I knew it was telling the truth. I should have hated him with everything because death was never okay—I wasn't a supporter of the death penalty and I didn't support euthanasia because it was never okay for someone to take the life of someone else.

And yet, here I sat. Opposite a monster, and trying to justify exactly why I would forgive him if it ever came to that.

I let out the deep breath shakily, but didn't move. I kept my eyes close on Damon.

He moved in again, and pressed a hand to the side of my face. "Em," he said again, as though I might have stopped paying attention to him. "Listen. I am a vampire—and I won't deny my nature. I drink human blood, and I'm not going to stop doing so."

I didn't care.

It was a realization that hit me with the speed and force of a freight train, but it was the truth. Like an epiphany, I supposed, since I'd never had a real one—

But I didn't care.

I cared about Damon, and I sure as hell cared about him more than I cared for the many faceless nobodies that he'd killed to survive.

"Do you watch _True Blood_?"

The pause that Damon left in response to this question wasn't anything serious—it wasn't as though he was worried for my wits if he gave me a bad answer and it wasn't as though he didn't know the answer.

It was more like he was worried for my sanity.

"Uh…" He said eloquently. "No?"

I sighed. "It's about vampires." I said quickly, not even sure myself where I was going with this. "And they have this fake blood thing that isn't blood but is—and it's called True Blood. And the humans know all about them, but are happy to let them live as long as they don't kill humans…"

Damon didn't seem to like where this was going, and went to interrupt. Before he could, however, I continued in a louder voice. I may not have known what I was going to say, but _damnit,_ I was going to say it.

"And I always watched it thinking that that was dodgy, you know?" I explained poorly. "I mean, they're _vampires. _How would we be able to stop them? If they wanna kill a human, they're going to…."

Damon stopped trying to interrupt me and fell silent; continuing to watch me as though I'd got bat crap insane.

"It's like in _Buffy_," I said, jumping to another piece of vampire media (one that I'd watched religiously). "Or _Angel. _I _always _liked Spike more, and it was just because he was so much cooler than Angel. I mean, he knew what he was, and he embraced it. He just went 'I am a vampire' and I should be allowed to be a vampire… he smoked though—that wasn't cool."

One look at Damon's face suggested that I really had gone off the deep end. I wasn't sure if my friends could hear me (he hadn't exactly been specific with his answer when I'd asked)

"I mean, have you seen _Twilight_?"

Damon seemed to think that was enough. Leaning forward and grasping both my wrists, he shook his head. "_Oookay_, that's enough," He said quickly, pushing himself from the ground and pulling me up with him. "I don't mind being compared to Spike because he was my favorite too, and I hear that the guys in _True Blood_ just have a lot of sex and I'm cool with that as well—but let's not get me started on Twilight."

I stared at him, trying to not blush too much from the sex remark.

"Have you read Anne Rice's stuff?"

Damon rolled his eyes and moved, swiftly stepping in beside me and swinging a casual heavy arm over my shoulder.

"That woman had it right, Em," he said grandly, and I laughed.

As I laughed, he peered at me under him arm. I frowned slightly, recalling the very serious conversation that had turned with my recollection of vampire television. But upon remembering my callous dismissal of what should have been a horrifying revelation, I just tried to stuff the memory somewhere that I couldn't find it.

But he continued to watch me with a contemplative expression.

"I've missed you," he said softly, pulling his arm tighter around my shoulders. "I've missed having you around."

I flushed and grinned, looking at my shoes as I avoided his gaze. "I missed you, too," I mumbled. With that, Damon used his arm and with complete ease swung me around and facing him. Then he pulled me into another hug.

Sweet Jesus, the voice wanted me to stop _this? _

Pulling back far too quickly, Damon looked down at me. "So, what are we doing about your friends?"

I'd kind of just wanted to forget that they were here.

With that not an option, I sighed and considered the three on the couch. "Can you make them forget?" I asked. "About everything that's happened? Tell them that Lachlan and I went on a road trip and that we'll be away for a while."

"I could tell them that you're never coming back." Damon said.

I smiled at him but shook my head. "Nah, don't tell them. When you do your mind bendy thing to Lachie, you can have him tell them that."

Damon smirked slightly, but didn't move, as though he expected me to continue. I grinned some more. "If I can stay, that is?" I asked.

Damon moved me back under his arm and pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head. "Em, I'm not letting you out of my sight again."

**.:.**

_Where the Frakk are you? When you get home, I'm kicking your ass –C_

I sighed, reading the final text of seven that Cameron had sent to my phone while I'd been away. I felt an odd sense of déjà vu getting these texts. It reminded me all too distinctly of the texts he'd sent me in sympathy the first time I'd been moved away from the city.

Of course, now there was no place I'd rather have been than Mystic Falls. So I'd have to find a way to explain to Cameron why I wouldn't be coming home.

"So," Elena started awkwardly, as we made our slow way up the stairs. "How long have you known Damon?"

I decided I would deal with Cameron later and stowed my phone in my back pocket. I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but I quickly tried to think of the simplest way I could answer Elena's question without revealing too much. Maybe it had something to do with the obvious dynamic between her and Damon, but I wasn't keen on telling Elena everything about me just yet.

"As long as I can remember, I guess."

Elena seemed to frown at that. I didn't dislike her, don't get me wrong. She'd seemed odd when I went to school with her and Damon's warning about Stefan had kept me from getting too close to her for obvious reasons. But she was nice, and as soon as Damon had told her that I would be needing a room, she leapt to her feet ready to help me.

We were walking to the spare room now, with our arms loaded with blankets. I was carrying the large fluffy blankets, while Elena followed me delicately with the sheets. She probably looked far more sophisticated than me, and for some reason, that bothered me.

"Which is Damon's room?" I asked.

Elena looked at me sharply and I hastened to explain. "I don't have any clothes," I said quickly. "He said that I could grab some from him until I can buy some—or get some of my old ones."

Elena nodded, looking less suspicious of me. We reached the flat floor and she pointed me to one end of the hallway. "That's Stefan's room," she said, "and Damon's is the room directly opposite, at the other end of the hall. The spare rooms are all the ones in between."

She did seem to question me when I chose the room beside Damon's, raising an eyebrow and sighing. But I paid her no mind. If Damon told me to move, I would—but his brother's girlfriend wasn't going to have me leaving just because she couldn't keep her eyes on her boyfriend. So she just sighed when I continued, and decided to change the subject.

"You left a while ago," she said casually. "You should talk to Matt—he went around telling anyone who'd listen that you'd been kidnapped, but then Damon told everyone you'd just asked to go home and he was kind of upset."

I frowned when I realized that I'd almost forgotten about him. He'd broken Lachlan's nose and been proud of it—and Lachlan had reminded me often about it before all this had started. And he'd texted me a _lot _in the days following my move.

In the end, I'd replied to the thousandth one I'd gotten with '_I needed to get out of there. Trust me, I'm not with that blonde freak.' _

Unfortunately for me, though, I had been with the blonde freak the entire time. Buying his lies and listening to every stupid scheme he could come up with.

But I didn't mind that Elena had swapped our chat to more neutral territory. I nodded, thinking fondly of Matt and smiling at Elena. "I will," I reassured her. "He was a really great friend when I was here."

Elena smiled slightly.

We continued to work in silence for a few more minutes. We'd made the bed and I was working on opening the curtains and the windows while Elena moved around the space looking busy. I was surprised when she spoke again.

"Look," she said, suddenly louder. When I turned to see her, she was staring at me, her shoulder squared. "I just want to tell you about Damon," she continued strongly. "He isn't always _stable _and you shouldn't be getting this _comfortable—"_

I interrupted her, once again letting my sudden temper get the better of me.

"_You _did." I accused her quickly. "How is your stay here any different to mine?"

Elena shook her head. "I have _Stefen._ And I trust Damon. But I don't think you're blind faith is anything good, especially when it's all in Damon—who is a dangerous _vampire."_

I frowned, squaring my shoulders as she had. One of my many anger counselors would call this an aggressive stance, letting myself prepare for an attack from something.

I was good with aggressive.

"Elena,' I said slowly, as calmly as I could. "Damon and I have known each other _far _longer than you've known Stefan. He's been there for me my _entire _life, and—"

I hadn't been interrupted in a realy long time. And I mean a _really _long time. The only person who I could ever absolutely trust not to put up with my crap was Damon and I hadn't seen him for nineteen months.

Apparently it had something to do with a glare that I'd perfected long ago. People were unwilling to deal with it, and therefore, let me go off on my usually incorrect tangents just so that I didn't get any madder.

Elena Gilbert had been hanging with vampires, hunted by originals and dealing with werewolves and witches for the past nineteen months that I'd been playing Winchester.

Elena Gilbert had _guts. _

And she effectively silenced me when this time, she interrupted me.

"I am _not _questioning what you have with Damon." She said loudly. "And I'm not asking you to leave. I think that you're safer here than anywhere else, at the moment." She paused for a moment, giving me time to gape at her like a fish out of water, before continuing. "I _am_, however, warning you—and reminding you. You haven't seen Damon in a while, and he _is _dangerous. I am not questioning your trust, or asking you to stop—I'm just asking you to be _careful." _

I spluttered nonsensically.

"Emma," Elena said softly now, stepping forward. "I've been dealing with vampires almost twenty four seven—and they're great almost all of the time." She paused, obviously thinking about some moment in her past before looking back at me. "But they aren't impervious to feelings, no matter what Damon has to say to the contrary. And I need you to keep that in mind."

I silently nodded my head.

Two minutes later, I was texting Cameron.

_I'm on a trip with Lachlan._ I sent, remembering what Damon and I had said we'd do. _Not sure when I'll be back. –E_

**.:.**

_No one's POV_

Stefan sighed, trying to tune out the sound of Emma and Elena arguing upstairs, but failing miserably. The down fall of perfect hearing, he observed, before entering the large drawing room to see his brother and three immobile humans.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch to make sure all of the humans were still alive, before he looked accusingly at Damon. Sure, the 'putting them back together' thing was more Stefan's personal style, but Damon's depravity did know no bounds. And Stefan had honestly thought Damon was doing better with Elena around. Maybe with the return of Emma Hamilton, Damon had slipped back…

But Stefan could smell and hear evidence that these people were still alive now, and relaxed. He ended the thought he'd been having, disregarding it as his own worry, and turned—to see Damon standing behind him.

"I didn't kill them." He said obviously, obviously having guessed what Stefan had thought of the situations. "They're compelled."

Stefan didn't say anything, and just nodded. The brothers had had their own communication problems, that much was obvious, but they seemed to be getting better. Damon didn't have to ask to know that Stefan was waiting for him to explain.

Instead, he changed the subject.

"Have you been eavesdropping, little brother?" Damon queried with his trademark smirk. His eyes flicked to the roof—the exact spot where both the vampires knew that Elena and Emma were arguing about them.

Well, Emma was arguing. Elena was just talking.

"Why is she here, Damon?" Stefan spoke, not falling for the change of subject. The relationship between Emma and Damon had been an interesting one—and Stefan had only found out about it a year and a half ago. And Stefan had been close to learning exactly what it all meant, when Damon had killed Zach and Emma had disappeared.

And following that, Stefan knew better to breach the subject. He'd been silent, sulky—but never to the point of brooding. He'd drunk a lot (their usual sustenance, and a crap load of alcohol) and partied hard—and that was only followed with the revelation that Katherine had been alive the entire time that Damon had been searching for them.

No, Emma Hamilton was not someone that anyone wise would talk to Damon about.

But now that she was back, maybe the subject would be a little less complicated.

"She shouldn't have ever _left, _Stefan." Damon said venomously, his eyes flashing dangerously. "And she won't be going anywhere."

Obviously, Damon and Emma were as complicated as ever.

"She's not safe here," Stefan reasoned. "We're already looking out for Elena and Jeremy—and Caroline and Bonnie. Do we really want to add someone else to that, especially when she can just leave town?"

Damon's eyes narrowed.

"What _we _want, Stefan, doesn't have anything to do with it. _I _want her to stay here, and she will." He said.

"Damon—"

Damon rolled his eyes and moved forward, walking directly into Stefan's space, so that the younger brother had to move his shoulder to get out of the way.

"I've been looking out for that girl for her entire life—and no matter the false pretences under which that might have begun—" Damon twitched almost imperceptibly, the way he did whenever he thought of Katherine these days, "—I won't stop just because you think your _girlfriend _is more important."

Stefan nodded slowly, glad that he'd gotten at least a little inadvertent information. So Katherine had had something to do with how Damon and Emma had met? And he'd known her for how long? And how had Katherine done that, if Damon had thought she was dead?

Damon crouched down, so that he could look directly in the eyes of the silent, unmoving humans. He quickly gave them their forced instructions and almost immediately, the three stood and slowly made their way out of the house.

"How are they going to get back to the city?" Stefan asked, having heard the instructions.

Damon shrugged. "Steal a car or something—doesn't matter. All that matters is that they won't be coming back."

Stefan surveyed his brother darkly. After a moment, he finally spoke. "We will talk about Emma," he said surely. "This isn't a conversation that you can just avoid."

Damon's eyes flashed again.

"We'll see."

**.:.**

**A/N: **Hey guyyss, Sorry for the wait on this chapter. Classes have started again and we got straight into assessment, so I've got four orals to give, a research paper and a photography portfolio to finish in the next eleven days, and then a week of exams four days later. I'll be studying religiously, and working hard, so updates might slow for a bit.

On the BRIGHT SIDE, after the next horrible twenty days, I'll be on another longish break, so I should be able to finish the story

For the next twenty days, however, I'll try to get a chapter up every Friday/Saturday/Sunday. So, you'll get one chapter a week for a while.

On the Brightside, I gave you a bit of Stefan's POV and Elena and Emma had a chat—and Damon and Emma had another nice little moment.

Also, I just wanted to say that I know that the 'guardian-guardinee' relationship could be a little squicky for anyone, but that's why I made it that Damon was only around every couple of days for Emma—and her dependency on him had developed. And Damon never struck me as a guy who stuck to social conventions anyway Hope it's not too much of an issue, and if it is, advice on how to fix it?

Please review guys. The response to the last couple of chapters was _overwhelming_ and now I feel like I have to pester you for reviews every chapter. So, **PLEASE REVIEW. **

To those of you who did review—may you live a long and prosperous life, and may Damon visit you in your dreams ;)

**. **Even if my updates are slower, I'll be working really hard on getting one out every week so I need the motivation.

Kk.

G.


	9. The Decision

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

Nb: Some people have asked if Emma and Damon's relationship is too like that of a family and how I'm going to make that work. What I would like at the moment is to remind you guys that in my opinion Emma is dependent on Damon and always has been, and as he wasn't always around when she was young so she doesn't feel anything wrong with her feelings being romantic (we confronted this in The Anomaly' yes? As for Damon, he never struck me as a vampire that cared much about the rules.

Big thanks to _Prue, shippolove844, Marina164509, Naida of the Rain, Shadowcat7694, SomebodyWhoCares, chase83, blackangel'OX, peygoodwin, May-Flowers99, Azalia Fox Knightling, suhvanuh, Fadeeex3, AnnaBL, Your Story is Wonderful, Vara_ and _Hayley _for the reviews. Keep it up!

**xXxXx**

_Emma's POV_

After Damon had left, with Elena and Bonnie and his brother, I gave it a half hour still silence before really moving. I'd settled in my new room, and spent that time silently pretending to read a book. I wasn't sure who I was pretending for, but some part of my mind had convinced me that Damon had hung behind, to make sure I wasn't about to do exactly what he'd asked me not to.

Which, I was about to do.

Anyway, the book that I was only pretending to read seemed to be some dated fiction book—one that I'd heard of many times but never gotten around to reading. _Wuthering Heights. _I'd only heard of it in passing, from my friends or the billion times Stephanie Meyer used it to try and make her character less shallow.

Anyway, from what I skimmed as I'd been focusing most of my attention elsewhere, it was about the (really demented) love story between a hard ass servant named Heathcliff and a bitchy rich girl named Catherine.

Whatever. Once the half hour had passed, I tossed the book aside, leaving it on my bedside table. I'd read the last chapter tonight, just to know how it ends—but only after I'd done the things I needed to do.

I moved about the house quietly, continuing to creep around for some odd reason. I knew no one was here—and Damon certainly would have gotten bored by now even if he'd hung around, which I was pretty sure now, he hadn't.

Endeavouring to make my tread heavier, just so that I could multitask and work on stop being so weird while I did other things, I made my way to the general direction that I thought I'd tracked Damon heading in, when he'd heaved Lachie over his shoulder and pulled him downstairs. Now, it was a large house with a large amount of passageways and doorways. It was a boarding house, for god's sake. People could stay here for holidays before it went out of service. There were lot of rooms, and while I was sure that they wouldn't all be in the basement, it would take me some time to figure out how to get there anyway.

Or so I'd thought.

Instead, it was rather easy.

I stood in the hallway—the one that connected the door to the lounge room—and stared at the eight doors that stood in front of my just here. My plan was to go to places like these all over the house, and then? Well…

"Lachlan?" I hissed into the silence of the house. I felt the oddest urge to turn on some music and dance to it, just to break the noise, but that didn't appear to be the best decision at this junction. Besides, I needed the silence, if I wanted Lachie to hear me.

Obviously, whispering wasn't be best idea. "Lachlan." I said louder this time, hearing it echo slightly on the corners of the house.

Nothing.

"Lachlan!"

This time, there was something. Not a response, per say. It was the sound of something shifting—furniture legs against the floor or something to that effect—and maybe a groan or something. If I'd been with other people in the house, I wouldn't have ignored it, and if I hadn't known that there was someone else inside, it would have scared the crap out of me. Even for a moment, I was terrified that someone else had gotten into the house. I certainly hadn't been expecting a response.

Still, when I got one I was more than grateful.

I hurried down the door that I supposed the noise had come from. In hindsight, the steep stairs downstairs probably should have enlightened me earlier, but I brushed off my terrible observation skills and moved quickly down them.

The stairs ended in a narrow, gross smelling kind of corridor, with a lower ceiling—that obviously ended with the large barred door halfway down. Making my way to the door and peering through, I instantly saw Lachie, and how he'd made the noise.

A chair had fallen over it seemed, when he moved his leg. He was lying on the floor, face down, his head to the side. There was still a very obvious rise and fall of his chest, though, which meant that I too could breath easier.

The lock on the door wasn't difficult, and I made my way in quickly. Then I was at his side. I closed the door behind me, but not for any particular reason. I hadn't even really decided why I was so keen on seeing Lachlan until that point—the point where I was suddenly sitting beside him and watching as blood ran out across already dry blood from his nose.

I pressed the cloth I'd brought with me to his nose as I asked my question.

"Did you know what she did to my parents?"

I hadn't even noticed how much it had been irritating me. The sheer reminder was spinning through my head, on a continuous whirl that I'd been able to ignore while dealing with Damon and the list of everyone else who I hadn't seen in ages. In the silence that was only filled with Wuthering Heights, I couldn't find a way to mute them.

_After we'd killed your parents_

She hadn't paused. She hadn't even considered how much those words stabbed me like a knife. It was casual. _They _were casual.

But they were my parents. The way that she'd ruined my entirely life, changed my path forever, _was_ important, and she had no right to tread on it that way.

I hated her.

I really, _really _hated her.

And if Lachlan had known for even a second, a millisecond, a moment of a second, the merest fraction—I would hate him too, with everything I had.

He seemed to understand the weight of the question, and even tried lifting his head as he tried to respond. Despite the seriousness of the question, I moved forward to help his head. If he replied in the way I was dreading, I could always just drop his head back to the floor.

"No."

I took a moment to let the sheer relief flood me for a moment. Lachlan may have been a liar but only in the same way I was. The others had equal rights to be angry with him—he had lied about everything—and to be angry with me—I was just as bad. And while Lachlan had lied to me, I'd done the same to him—even if he'd known they were lies the entire time.

_Forgive and forget_, Lily had always said. And I could always forgive.

I just wouldn't forget.

"Why did you keep me away from Damon?"

Of course that would be my next question. Everything I was doing recently had been for Damon and trying to figure out how to mend a broken to relationship. And a relationship with changed dynamics it seemed.

With his absence, I finally had some free time to think. It was like the reluctant breath of fresh air you have to take when you're trying to see how long you can stay under water.

Gone was the almost obsessive need to have Damon. That was a childish dependency that I'd been invested in since I was fifteen—and the only other male guy in my life was Cameron. Gone was the need to know where he was, and the desire to throw up whenever he told me he'd be gone to longer than expected.

This?

This was deeper. This was the fresh air. This was me, seeing someone who I'd always needed come back to me—only I'd dealt with all my issues.

With the email that Lachlan had sent I'd dealt with my problems. My inherent selfishness—my obsessions? Gone. Forcibly dealt with because Damon had finally said that he didn't need me.

So even if it had been a lie, and I'd had trouble entirely forgetting about him, I'd at least dealt with those issues.

And returning to find that it was a lie? That only gave me hope. The issues hadn't returned.

Damon had. Just Damon.

Well, Damon and a very obvious sense of male sexuality. And it didn't feel like a sin to notice it this time. _No, _it certainly did not.

"I thought he was dangerous." Lachie coughed, hinging himself against my bent knees and pushing himself up slightly, "but please, Em, let me tell you _everything._"

Forgive and forget.

It was with Lily's voice ringing in my ear, drowning out the sound of that Kathy-_bitch_'s casual disregard of my parents that I nodded. Pulling the clothes away from his nose, the bleeding seemed to have stopped, and the cloth had gotten rid of some of the blood, but I'd need the water bottle that I'd also brought down to clean the rest.

Before I used it though, I pushed it in his hands. "Drink," I ordered, like all those bad ass nurses in the movies always did. Once he had—and it took a while, he finished half of the bottle—I took it back and poured it on the cloth. Then I began wiping at the dried blood on his cheek, mouth and chin. "Talk."

As I wiped at his face, glad that the bleeding had stopped, but more keen on finding out what he was going to say, I couldn't help but feel frustrated that the blood was around his mouth and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hear what he was going to stay.

Still, he was the one who told me to stop in the end. "That craps not going anywhere," he said, his voice sounding significantly less hoarse after the drink. "But I need you to know this."

He looked directly up at me, his head resting on my lap.

"My father doesn't know about Damon."

Yep.

That one surprised me. Enough for me to let my hand drop slightly, hitting his ear so that he flinched. As I apologised, he actually mustered up enough energy to chuckle at my reaction.

"Yeah, it's hard to believe but I didn't let him know. I knew about him—but I didn't tell my Dad. Sounds about fair now that I know he lied about everything as well." He chuckled again, this time not entertained. It was a dry humour now, the sound of a man who sounded as bitter as I'd felt when I'd heard about _his _lies.

Still. The lies weren't from my parents.

"What does your father know?" I asked, the question struck me quickly, as I pictures the old man in the picture with my parents. He always seemed way too smiley to be the slimy ma Lachlan now seemed to think he was.

Again, the bitter laugh appeared.

"I don't know." He sighed. "He obviously knew about the vervain—and chose not to tell any of us. I don't know if he found out about Damon through other channels. I know that he just told me—when he sent me to talk to you the first time—that he'd tried adopting you before someone got in the way."

I wouldn't have needed adopting if it wasn't for that Katherine chick.

I pushed that thought away. "But he wanted to adopt me." I verified. "He wanted me?" Lachlan just nodded.

"And the vervain? He knows what that does?"

Lachlan shrugged.

"I don't even know what it does."

I thought back to what Damon had said. It was a herb that hurt vampires. And it was occurring naturally in my blood, and affecting my functions while it settled? When it'd first been tested, Connor and Tara had continuously made fun of how I was given an extra flavour for when I was taken by a vampire. They'd added some _pizzaz _to the blood, or something or rather.

That was apparently not the case.

Whatever it was that Lily was always trying to say, I was certainly not finding it easy to continue to trust Lachie. But for the moment, it appeared he was having as much trouble with his trust issues as I was.

I was the girl who'd sided with the vampires, after all.

So I told him what I could, but I didn't tell him everything. That's how I figured I was going to get through this.

"Damon's told me what vervain does," I told him. "I'm not sure if your dad knows, but if our parents did know, it explains why they put it in my blood. I haven't told Damon yet."

"Don't."

It didn't exactly sound like a question, but Lachie knew it was one. He'd known me long enough. Nineteen months was a good amount of time to get to know someone and he'd got to know enough of my odd questions.

"At least, not yet, Em. You need to make sure he trusts you first, okay? It'll come—I've seen how much you care about each other—so give yourselves some time."

I nodded my head. Then I swallowed, and thought straight to the subject that I had been avoiding. The blood on his face, the bars on the door and the bruise on his eyes.

"He won't be as nice with you." I said slowly.

He chuckled dryly again. "No," he smirked, his face looking as though it was just a bit painful. "Doesn't look like it."

I swallowed. We'd finished the important part of our conversation, it appeared. Now I could go back to cleaning his face, and getting the blood out of his hair. Besides, it was for me to talk now. All he had to do was listen.

"I know Damon's temper, Lachie. And I believe that your dad lied to you as much as he lied to the rest of us." I swallowed.

I was doing this.

I was a good person, and I was doing this. No matter what Damon thought. (Or at least, that was the theory.)

"Lachie. You need to get out of here. There's a shower upstairs, grab some of Damon's clothes and go. Figure out what the hell is going on with your dad, and you come back and tell me. If he's got some grand plan, I need to know okay—and after this you'll owe me."

I wiped the last of the blonde from his hair, and went over his face one last time.

His face was wet, and his bruised eyes was still swollen, but he smiled at me from my lap. As I helped him to stand, he pressed a kiss to my forehead, in the same way Damon had before he'd left, and hugged me.

"You're a good friend, Em—and as soon as I know anything, you'll know about it."

I didn't doubt it. I told him so with a grin, punched him slightly in the arm and herded him upstairs. Once he'd showered and taken some of Damon's clothes—pants that weren't jeans and a black shirt (hopefully Damon wouldn't notice it's disappearance with too much anger)—and then he was gone.

**.:.**

_Meanwhile at Mystic Falls High, 60s Theme Dance, Damon Salvatore. _

The sound of Elena's frantic cries were ringing in Damon's ears as be made his way out of the high school. Klaus was injured, but not dead—no, that was Bonnie. Sure, Bonnie was quite alive right now. But as soon as Stefan had Elena out of the way, Damon had taken the body*. It was now that he walked, with Bonnie's limp (but not _dead)_ body in his arms.

But as far as that annoying Original knew, she was dead and gone and he had free range over the small town.

Which was exactly what they'd planned.

Up until now, of course, Damon thought bitterly as he stopped dead. Already healing, Klaus stood in Rick's body, leaning heavily on the wall. He was smirking slightly, the blood dripping from his lips only adding to his manic appearance. He was wearing a man that Damon would actually consider a friend, in some cases.

This was _so _not cool.

"Cleaning up my mess, are you?" Klaus-in-Rick's body asked with a smirk that made Damon flinch imperceptibly. He liked being the insane crazy vampire around these parts.

"Someone has to do it." Damon replied, keeping his tone even and calm. He was particularly impressed with himself after that one.

"Someone always does."

Damon clenched his teeth but again, managed to stay calm. Now he was even _surprising _himself. But he was mindful of Bonnie's body in his arms. It couldn't be damaged—not at all—while her consciousness hovered in the delicate in between place. And as much as the little witch irritated him, she had been willing to give his life and he respected that. She deserved enough for him to respect her momentarily empty body.

So he wasn't going to just toss her aside and attack a vampire who was undoubtedly stronger than him, despite the injuries that he'd sustained that evening.

Still, Klaus wasn't just going to let him pass.

"So, I have a friend of yours at home. She told me all about her sordid past with you while I had her stabbing herself."

Damon feels nothing at the idea of Katherine in pain. Or so he'd like to believe. Maybe a twinge of sympathy that he'd never ever let anyone hear about ever.

"It all got a bit boring after a while," Klaus uses Rick's voice to sneer. "But then she got onto a better subject—an Emma Briggs came up—or was it Hamilton?"

Damon, who was stiff to begin with, was taken by surprise by those word. In fact, he had to make sure that his grip didn't tighten too much on Bonnie's body. Too much stress from his arms, and he could break a bone or split the skin.

And Bonnie had reminded him how bad that would be.

"Why are you interested?" Damon asked, managing to keep his own even, and even letting a slight smirk slip onto his face. And yet, his eyes continued to flash dangerously. "She's not important."

Klaus tilted Alaric's head and smirked again. "Well, you see, Damon, I didn't think so. And then Kat came to me and showed me some very interesting blood results that suddenly sparked my interest."

Damon had heard of the blood tests before. He'd even asked Emma about them.

She's brushed him off.

Apparently, Katherine had used her usual methods to take the answers she needed, and they'd fallen into Klaus's hands. So now, the oldest vampire in the history of time knew everything about Emma. And so did Damon's own psycho ex-girlfriend, who'd enlisted him to care for Emma in the first place. Even Stefan had somehow figured out that Emma was hiding things from him.

The only one who didn't know all about Emma's secrets, he surmised, was _him._ Damon Salvatore.

Klaus seemed to have observed his reactions closely, and smirked slightly. He pushed himself away from the wall, and stood steadily.

"Maybe you should look into that Damon. You can't have any more girls manipulating you—even if this one isn't a doppelganger."

Yep.

That stung.

Damon didn't move, and instead kept a close grip on Bonnie's body. He would continue to do the things that he'd told Bonnie he would. Her life depended on him and for once he wasn't going to let these people down.

But once her heart was beating again, and her lungs were working—he'd be back to the mansion.

And Emma would be answering some damn important questions.

**.:.**

**A/N:**

* I wasn't sure of the specifics of the time between Bonnie's apparent death and when we see her video call to Elena. So I'm utilising creative licence and creating my own scenario. Any questions (or larger insight than my own, if you know about Bonnie's 'death' more extensively than myself).

Kay, so I'm watching Battlestar Galactica while I write the rest of this (BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH). Today, I've handed in three papers, and gave two oral yesterday. As of today, my assessment has lessened so I should be getting chapters out more often.

BUT PEOPLE and I say BUT loudly for emphasis,

WHAT HAPPENED TO REVIEWS? I stopped bugging you for one chapter, and they dropped. Half of my normal reviewers didn't review and like I said, my motivation was already way down.

I NEED THEM. I'M LIKE A SUCCUBUS PEOPLE, ONLY INSTED OF GROSS THINGS, I FEED OF REVIEWS. SO I APOLOGISE, BUT I AM NOT ABOVE ASKING FOR THEM.

REVIEW.

REVIEW.

REVIEW.

Also, watch Battlestar Galactica, because it's amazing. And Gaius Baltar's hair is babing.

THANKS PEOPLE.

G.


	10. The Drive

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

Nb: _Merideth Harrow_ asked me if Emma was going to turn into a vampire because of the vervain. I'm going to be honest, this idea did occur to me in the early stages of this fic, but I thought that vervain is definitely a negative to vampires, and it just wouldn't have that type of effect. But, thanks for noting the vervain—I was worried no one had noticed :/ — it is an important part of this fic and everyone should make sure to notice it. A lot more clarity will come in this chapter.

_Tora _asked if I was going to be following Season three. Well, as an avid Delena shipper, I am LOVING this season in so many ways it's hard for me to express. And while I'm still able to write Emma/Damon, I don't particularly want it stretching there. My season three ideas for this fic will become evident, but I'll let you know more as this fic comes to a close. ;)

**ALSO: **(one last thing, before you can go on and read :P) I'm glad at the response I've gotten concerning the 'Damon/Emma' relationship that I was worried about. I'm glad that everyone views Damon and Emma as having a 'friend' relationship instead of the family one I've been worried about.

AND WITH THAT ALL SAID, I'd like to say another big thanks to _shippolove844, belleslvtr1867, Neon Knightly, ThisLooksLikeAJobForMe, Rae, SomebodyWhoCares, rosewhip889, Marina164509, Mara, chase83, May-Flowers99, Jessiscrazy9108, Your Story Is Wonderful, Vera, Hayley, Andy, Hanna, Tora, Maria, Naira, Karia, Qara33, SarahF, Merideth Harrow _and _rainbow-wallet _for the great reviews. Keep it up, please! And a BIG hello to _Anonymous_ who's a new reader and whose review (last night) compelled me to finally get this chapter finished. Like all reviews.

**xXxXx**

_Matt_

He got out of the car slowly, unable to keep his face as nonchalant as he'd have liked. He could feel the corners of his lips turning down, and the tips of his eyebrows coming together, even if he was doing all he could to try and act calmly. If the look on Emma's face was ay indication, he didn't look happy with her. Which, he decided, was probably fair. He wasn't happy with her, after all.

It was a short walk from his side of the car to her side—where she was standing on the front porch, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot. It had been something like a year and a half since he'd seen her. In the history of Mystic Falls, her first stay here was nothing more that a blip on the radar. Other things had happened instead.

But still, people still laughed at him behind his back for his 'paranoid' phase. The time when he'd run around the town telling anyone who would listen that she'd been kidnapped by the crazy blonde guy who believed in vampires.

It was only when Liz had approached him that he'd shut up and decided she was better far away from this town. Away from Stefan and Damon and Caroline—and Tyler, whatever he was, and Bonnie who was actually a witch and Elena who was apparently just deluded, and full of a stupi amount of misplaced trust.

His revelation, that Emma was far safer wherever she'd gone than she would have been here, had been a recent on. It was only really fair that, on the coattails of that decision, Emma would ride back into town and just casually call him.

This town was _really _messed up.

Still, Matt remained silent. Emma hadn't spoken either, apparently perfectly happy to let Matt make the first noise. Leaning back, letting his elbows lean on the bonnet of his car, he didn't speak, so much as sigh.

"You dyed your hair," he commented lightly, his gaze sweeping over Emma's newly blonde locks.

At his words, she looked surprised, like she'd forgotten that her hair was a different colour. Maybe it wasn't new, he thought. Lifting a hand, she touched her own head, as if reminded herself, before shrugging and nodding. "Kind of hoping to change it again," she said.

Matt raised an eyebrow.

"I was going to go to the store." She said quickly, answering his unanswered question. "To buy some hair dye or something—to fix it. But I don't have a car, my heads been kind of hurting ever since I got here and Damon said he wouldn't take me so I figured I'd wait until tomorrow and walk in or something—" she fell to a stop when she noticed that Matt was moving.

More than that. He was getting back into his car.

She frowned and Matt smirked to himself. Surely she was thinking those neurotic thoughts she used to voice to him. Had she said something that he didn't like? Was he just done with it and leaving? She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before Matt spoke.

"Get in," he said. "We'll talk while we drive. You look weird."

**.:.**

"I knew it." Matt said triumphantly, as they made their way back from the store to his car. Following Emma's final admission of guilt (and the revelation of where the _hell _she'd been) Matt had a confident, smug grin on his face. "I _knew _you were with that blonde freak."

Emma frowned slightly, thinking of Lachie—who she'd sent away only about forty five minutes ago. Pushing the thoughts of where he would have been by now—the ride to the city was a long one, and she hadn't thought to ask how he was going to get there—she brushed it off and laughed slightly with Matt.

He turned his accusing gaze to her. "You told me that you weren't near him." He said with narrowed eyes. "In that stupid text you sent me."

She flushed. "Just get in the car."

Matt snorted.

Opening the door, Emma put her purchases in the space at her feet before climbing in. She'd planned on buying hair dye in a box (even though she expected that there wasn't any hair dye that suited her old hair perfectly). Because of the dance, it had been open late to do girl's hair—and had been happy to dye her hair before they closed. So now, the hair on her shoulders was a dark brown that Emma was happy to see in her peripheral.

So, instead of hair dye in the bag, there was just the food she'd bought (peanut butter, a bar of chocolate and some red vines) and the headache medication. Although, Emma noted, now that she was away from the Salvatore mansion and out in the fresh air, the pain had abated slightly.

"You know," Matt said to her as he started the engine. "I thought you would come back. Even though Caroline kept telling me how much Damon hated you these days—and I mean, even though she exaggerates a lot, everyone could see that he was pissed about _something." _

"Caroline?" Emma said with a slight frown. From the expression, Matt could tell that she hadn't given the blonde drama queen a second thought in months. "She's still around isn't she?" she mused. "I forgot about her—I just remember being so angry when she told me to stay away from her boyfriend."

Matt smirked, "you're not doing a very good job, though."

Emma shrugged. "What was I going to do?" She asked him, her frown making the slow progression to a scowl. "Just stay away from Damon? It's not like they were destined to be together or anything—I mean, he's my guardian. I'm not just going to leave him alone because she demanded it, you know?"

Matt chuckled.

"I wasn't talking about Damon."

Emma frowned.

Matt watched with amused eyes and the cogs turned inside Emma's head. She wasn't quite as free with her emotions as Caroline was, but she wasn't nearly as good as hiding them as Elena. Matt was good with both girls, and he had been Emma's close friend on her first trip here, so he didn't have any problem observing as the light flicked on and she realised what he'd meant.

She turned to look at him with horrified eyes.

"_No."_

Matt chuckled.

Emma continued to stare.

Managing to shift his focus between both Emma and the empty road he was driving on, Matt straightened out his smile. He'd been having his problems doing as Liz had been asking. He didn't have to lie to many people—but even if it was just Caroline, he had his problems. In fact, he'd just gotten back from the dance—and exhaustedly making sure he didn't let it slip that he wasn't as compelled as Caroline had wanted—when Emma had called.

He'd called Liz as soon as she'd hung up.

Sheriff Forbes had been a great help over the last couple of weeks—even though she really wasn't giving him much room to back out of this crazy stupid spot he'd gotten himself into. And even though he really wanted out of this business with Caroline—he wasn't going to leave the Sheriff out. And Emma Hamilton's abrupt return was important—because she was the ward of a vampire and there was no way she couldn't know about it.

Still, Liz's directions were clear. Figure how much she knows and then report back. And he was already lying to Elena, Caroline and Stefan. What would it be if he added one more person to that list?

"Come on," Matt said, now that he'd successfully turned the conversation to his vampire girlfriend. "She's really not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Emma echoed incredulously—in the same fashion she had when she'd been complaining to him about how she was dating Damon. "She's the most shallow girl I've ever had the _misfortune _to—"

"Hey," Matt interrupted her with a warning tone, reminding himself that this was his girlfriend. "Come on."

Emma harrumphed once and slumped in her seat. She paused for another moment before sighing. It became clear to Matt that she would be remaining silent if she wasn't allowed to complain about Caroline. She seemed to have remembered that she was the one who had set off for higher horizons and left him behind.

Working again for Liz, Matt sighed as well.

"You might as well get used to her being around." He said, making sure that his voice sounded like any other boyfriend's might when a girlfriend hung out with someone more than him. "She's always at the Salvatore Mansion with Elena and Bonnie and Stefan and _Damon_."

Emma glowered at him heavily, but Matt kept the smirk on his face.

Okay, so maybe he really shouldn't have been pushing the Damon thing. Emma had always had a weird problem with Damon—she could be as negative as she liked about him, but as soon as someone else was, they were going down.

Grumbling beside him, Emma readjusted herself in the seat, having problems with her seatbelt or something, before she sighed. "Why?" She said. "I mean, I know Elena likes her—but she was always just convenient to Damon—I don't get it, you know?"

Matt found his hands tightening on the steering wheel before he even thought about it. _Convenient? _Caroline was just convenient to Damon? Caroline had told him about everything she remembered from under _his_ mind thing that Damon had done. It was only with the knowledge that Damon could (and would) rip his head from his shoulders that Matt didn't bang down his door and demand that they solve this outside (by way of fists). Also Caroline was a vampire.

And that was wrong.

Just as the voice in his head began to ask if it really was as wrong as he'd been told, he shook his head and pushed the thoughts away.

He didn't know what Liz was going to do about that, but as far as he was concerned, Vicki was dead because of them. And that was something that he would never forgive.

He shook his hands in the air for a moment, before taking hold of the steering wheel again, and focusing on what Emma had been saying.

She was still muttering under her breath different thoughts about what Caroline would be doing spending so much time with Damon and co. He couldn't quite distinguish the words but her eyes were moving frantically across the dashboard—following invisible jumps that Matt knew meant she was thinking hard.

Then she stopped and looked up in horror—as what could only have been realisation dawned on her.

She knew, alright.

Matt was about to press the issue some more when Emma started. "That's the turn," she ordered.

When Matt looked he realised that the drive had gone far faster than he'd intended—and the driveway to the Salvatores was ahead. He had to swerve to make it, and he frowned when he realised that the sudden movement had disrupted her chain of thought and she wasn't thinking about Caroline any more.

Or, at least, she wasn't going to talk about her.

"Jesus," she joked lamely. "Wanna focus a little more on your driving, there, Matty?"

Matt forced a laugh, flinching from the use of his sister's nickname. It wasn't uncommon, but it certainly wasn't Emma's place to use.

"So," Emma asked conversationally, "how's Vicki?"

It was with a sickening realisation that Matt remembered that Emma had left before Vicki had vanished—and then been revealed as dead.

Clenching the steering wheel hard, Matt took a deep breath. "She's dead, Emma."

The silence was always the worst of it, Elena had once told him. The pitiful silence as the other person tried to desperately think of something suitable to say. He hadn't understood back then, when she'd broken up with him, but he damn well understood now. And Emma was more awkward than most of the people he knew. Her silence would last longer if he didn't do something about it. "Uhm... she disappeared just after you left last year. Then, Caroline found her body."

Another pause. But, some of Emma's wits seemed to have kicked in and she knew not to leave it for long. "Jesus Christ Matt, I'm so sorry..."

Matt didn't respond, and simply pulled silently into the drive way. Emma went to say something again, but Matt interrupted her. "So this was fun." He said briskly, turning the engine off and looking at her. "We should do it again."

Emma seemed to get the hint and, flushing; she opened the door and got out. Grabbing the food she'd bought, as well as the medication (she'd said something about a headache and a stomach ache, but how it was getting better around him. Grabbing the food she'd bought, as well as the medication (she'd said something about a headache and a stomach ache, but how it was getting better around him. Yeah right.)

Matt had the engine on again before the door had closed, but, in a moment, before he drove off, he rolled down the window.

"Em." He called out, to her now retreating back and her new dark hair. She paused and turned to look at him, smiling hopefully. He took a breath. "Call me. Or, at least, text me. You know, if you're going to vanish again."

Emma had time to nod, and see Matt's shaky smile, before the window was up again and his tires were crunching the gravel.

**.:.**

_A few minutes earlier, at the Salvatore Boarding House, _

_Stefan_

It was late by the time Stefan finally managed to sit down. With a scotch in his hand, he made sure he could hear Elena up in his room, still talking gleefully to Bonnie on the laptop that Damon had evidentially provided. It usually would have been easy for him to hear it from anywhere—he should have been able to hear Elena even breathing from outside the house. But, that brought him to his second problem—and the reason why he was holding the scotch in his hand so tightly. It would do him no good to be even remotely inhibited by alcohol for when he needed to talk Damon down from murder.

There was a crash upstairs, and Stefan sighed. Any normal person would have flinched. Anyone who didn't know his brother would have flinched.

Momentarily, Stefan pondered whether or not Emma Hamilton would have flinched.

There was a lot he didn't know about the girl, he'd realised only lately. He'd thought, when she vanished earlier in the year, that he'd done what Elena had asked him to do. He'd achieved what he'd tried, and she'd simply left, realizing how important it was that she stay away from Damon.

Apparently not.

No, instead she'd been sent away by a boy that Stefan had never met, maybe even kidnapped. And then, the same boy had sent Damon an email that put him off the trail. And she'd reappeared in their lives, with her own gang of supernatural-esque hunters and Katherine on her tail.

So really, didn't Stefan have the right to know what in the hell was going on?

He'd said as much to Damon before. Always being brushed off and ignored, Damon responded only with vague messages that reminded him of the phase he'd gone through when making fun of Stefan's philosophy degree from Harvard in the nineties. It was infuriating.

But there was some things he did know.

For one, Emma was gone. They'd returned to the house, with a furious Elena, and were distracted quickly enough that they hadn't noticed she was absent from the house. It was only after that, after Elena had slapped his brother across the face and after Damon had declared that he was always willing to be the bad guy, that they realised that she was gone. And that had, of course, triggered Damon's current actions.

Throwing around their expensive furniture and breaking things.

He really needed to get Damon involved in some sort of anger management treatment or something. Their shared furniture was worth a crapload, and it really couldn't be fixed.

There was another crash, and Stefan made his decision. Quickly, he downed the glass of the scotch (could he really even get drunk anyway?) and pushed himself to his feet. He wanted to calm Damon down by the time Elena had noticed anything more than the fact that Bonnie was still alive. For the moment, it wasn't even on her radar.

In a flash Stefan was upstairs, beside his irate brother. Sure enough, a cabinet table from the nineteen twenties was in pieces on the floor beside a number of other pieces that they had liked. Stefan was relieved that they'd put Emma in a spare room—all the good, expensive furniture was either downstairs or in his and Damon's room.

"You should calm down." Stefan said lightly.

Damon clenched his fist. "You really shouldn't tell me what to do, brother." He said through his teeth.

Stefan sighed.

"You don't even know what's happened yet. She left everything here—she probably just went into town or something." He said.

Damon shot him a look. Despite what the evidence suggested, they both knew that that wasn't what had happened. It could have been the case, if the vault downstairs wasn't empty. Elijah was still in the vault adjacent, but the blonde little boy had vanished.

It appeared that she and the kid had gotten out as soon as they could.

"Look," Stefan said slowly. "Doesn't this just mean that we've got one less person to look out for? She's probably safer from Klaus now that she's gone, anyway. And Katherine can't get to her."

Damon looked at him, an incredulous expression on his face. If he weren't his brother, Stefan would have just brushed off the look as more of this anger. But Stefan knew Damon. In his eyes—Stefan could see the pain in his eyes. He didn't like seeing Damon like this. It reminded him of a heap of things about his brother that he didn't like to think about.

Still.

"That's the point, Stefan." Damon said angrily. "Why would Katherine _want _to get to her?"

Stefan shook his head. "No. That's not it, Damon. The question is why do you _care?" _

Damon's eyes flashed, but he managed to restrain himself to not break any more of their things. Instead, he clenched his fists tighter and glowered at his younger brother. With a steadily drawn breath of air that he didn't even need, Damon finally saw sense and let himself sit on the end of Emma's bed (when had it become Emma's bed?).

"I care, Stefan." He said. For a moment, Stefan stared at him, shocked to hear the revelation. Was this Damon? Damon admitting that he felt things? That he had feelings? However, before Stefan could get too excited, Damon corrected himself. "I care because she could be dangerous to me. Katherine had me watch her, her _whole life_, Stefan. Since she was four. And because I was an idiot, I did it. _Without any question_."

Stefan blinked.

Damon had looked after a four year old? On Katherine's wishes? … _how_ did he not know that?

"And now?" Damon continued. "Now _everyone_ knows her secret, except me. Katherine, her little boy who she left with, even freaking _Klaus._"

Stefan's eyebrows shot up.

Klaus knew?

Klaus was interested in Emma?

The noise of tires squealing on the gravel and the door opening caught their attention. Then the door slammed close. "I'm home," Emma's jovial voice called out. "How was the dance?"

**.:.**

**A/N: **Sooo…. I'm a crappy author? Is that what you're all trying to tell me? *shifty eyes and nervously twiddles thumbs*

STILL. I do have an explanation. Because I'm awesome (and, apparently, Barney Stinson… :S )

Right. So, over in Australia (greatest country ever, amirite?) it's the summer holidays. I've just graduated High School (which I think is different over here than America I think…whatever it is, I'm about to go to University this year). So I've been out at parties, at the beach, holidaying, playing Solitaire on my new IPAD and watching a butt load of the West Wing (WHICH IS AWESOME FOLKS. WATCH IT) to get through the mid season break that goes over Christmas (TOMORROW PEOPLE. TOMORROW IS THE FIFTH. For me, anyway. Maybe it's the day after for some of you guys. GOD I'M SO CONFUSED).

Also, for my formal (senior prom, I guess?) I got fake nails, which makes typing a freaking pain in the BUTT, and that had contributed to my writers block. Still, I got through it, and I'm getting there.

SO, here is this chapter. Chapter ten. ;) Bit of a filler, but I'll get to work on eleven momentarily. And I know I'm a shitty author.

BUT PLEASE REVIEW. It's thanks to your reviews that I was compelled to update after all this time! SO… '

REVIEW. REVIEW. REVIEW. REVIEW.

PLEAAAASSEE :S

Peace out, bros.

G.

PS. I have found the MOST amazing Damon Salvatore centric you tube video. And, because I love you guys for putting up with my dodgy author ways, I'm going to put the link up.

_www . youtube . com / watch? v=q1uPGNe7rMo_

REMOVE THE SPACES PEEPS.


	11. The Explanation

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

**SPOILERS AHOY. YE BE WARNED. (to avoid, skip to the NB.) **

Did you see it? DID YOU ALL SEE IT? OMFG, mates, OMFG. DELENA IS ON! Just as a little rant to everyone who's already on my back for being such a fan of the end on 3.10, I GET that Stefan is the one who dated Elena first, and I GET that he was sacrificing himself for Damon both times and Damon owes him for that.

BUT DON'T YOU THINK, that after Stefan has shown that he clearly couldn't care less about Elena or her family or her friends, Elena has a right to move on? She can't be expected to remain in some sort of stasis while Stefan goes through his little 'bad ass' phase can she?

And AS FOR DAMON—doesn't Stefan owe Damon? I'm not saying that Elena is some sort of bartering tool between them, but—Stefan was the one who outed Katherine and messed that up (even if it was messed up to begin with). Stefan was the one who made Damon drink human blood and TURN INTO A VAMPIRE people, and the way I see it, Damon was totally justified in making Stefan's eternal life hell for a bit. It's called payback, and it's exactly what I would have done. But as for the Elena thing, Stefan knows that Damon loves her just as much. Why is it that just because Stefan got there first, Elena's suddenly 'his'. Who Elena ultimately decides shouldn't be about 'right' or 'wrong' or 'who got there first'. It should be about who Elena wants to be with, and who she thinks is best for her. And even if it does end up being Stefan then so be it.

But, by god I hope it's Damon. Because damn, that kiss was HOT.

(Sorry. I got ranted at on youtube because I made a positive comment and there's a chance I'm feeling a little resentmentness).

**OKAY. SPOILERS BE IN THE PARST (I thought that sounded pirate-y. I'm having a good day movie wise. Yesterday, I watched Pirates of the Caribbean, then this morning (after being pushed in a lake, by the way, and then showering) I went to the movies and saw the latest Sherlock Holmes movie (Robert Downey Junior is babing) and then I came home and watched the vampire diaires. Good day, yes?) **

**NB. **This is the third time I'm going to be working from Damon's 3rd POV. Feedback on THAT would be awesome, since (SPOILER) Emma and Damon are going to go in different directions some more and I need to be good and writing Damon without Emma being around :S Cheersies.

**PLUS: **Six reviews, guys. Six. For the last chapter. And I get that it was a filler, but come on. SIX? Really?

Thanks to those six who reviewed: _Marina164509, ThisLooksLikeAJobForMe, Rae, Veni Vidi Vichi, SomebodyWhoCares _and _shippolove844. _

**.:.**

_Damon_

Damon could tell almost instantly that Stefan was on guard. As soon as they both recognised Emma's scent once again in the mansion, Stefan had tensed his muscles to fight. His little brother was of the opinion that Damon couldn't control himself.

Around Emma.

_Puh-lease. _

Simply smirking at Stefan, Damon strolled casually past him. He could still hear Elena on the webcam to Bonnie and in a moment of sympathy (that he wouldn't ever consciously acknowledge) he decided that he would have this talk with Emma downstairs. Elena didn't need to think that he was going to be killing another human tonight (and he'd been slapped around enough—to be honest, Klaus's metaphorical bitch slap smarted a little more than Elena's weak human attempt).

He moved down the stairs with his hands clenched. He was still angry, he reminded himself, but it seemed that his gratuitous violence towards his own inanimate possessions had calmed him a little. Plus, the look of stupefied shock on Stefan's voice reminded him that Stef knew even less than Damon did and that had made him feel a little better.

When he rounded the corner to see Emma the first thing he noticed was that she had dyed her hair again. Still not the natural colour, the dark brown suited her better than the unnatural blonde. The next thing Damon noticed was the grocery bag in her hand. She'd obviously gone out on an errand run after letting her psycho vampire-hunter out of their cage, and forgotten to leave a note on where she was going.

Not that she should have been going anywhere.

Another thought occurred to him. "You better have not touched my car," he threatened coldly.

Emma, who had been smiling brightly at him until that point, frowned. Poking out her lower lip in that way that every girl could do effortlessly, her eyebrows came together. "I didn't." She said with a scowl. "Not that that would be so bad."

Damon scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Don't forget I gave you your first driving lesson, Emma." He said. "I feared for my life." He kept his voice quiet and cold, the best way he knew to shield his emotions. Whatever he said about the switch, it wasn't that cut and dry. But still, he could make it look that way.

Emma seemed to have noticed that something was up. She didn't move forward—and instead shifted her weight onto her back leg, leaning away from him instead. She seemed to know him well enough to recognise when he was angry. Still, she smiled slightly (guarded, Damon noted) and nodded. "I'll bet you did, _vampire._" She said.

Damon had often enjoyed the way people likened vampires to cats, he thought errantly. If he thoughts about it, the mannerisms were roughly the same. It wasn't as though he purred, or licked himself, for Christ's sake. No, instead the similarities lay in the way that he moved. He was still, his muscles tense—like a cat, ready to pounce—and Emma had definitely noticed.

She tried to keep casual, nonetheless. "So," she said breezily—even though her body was as tense as his. "What's going on?"

He knew from experience (he'd killed a lot of people, you know) that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. He could see the goose bumps that had crept across her lower arms—having nothing to do with the cold air that she'd just been out in. Every part of her body was telling her to get out and away from him, but (because she was as much of an idiot as he was) she was standing her ground.

"Everything went as planned," Damon said, as though she'd been in on the plan. "We did have a little run in with Klaus though."

That seemingly distracted her for a moment. "Is Elena okay?" she asked quickly, displaying the sort of compassion that she usually kept to herself (or forgot to display). "The others?—hey, that reminds me—is _Caroline _a vampire? Because I mean, Matt was talking to me and he said that she'd always with us and I figured as long as you're over your 'she's convenient' phase, why else would she be here?"

Damon ignored her and kept talking. "He was in Rick's body," Damon said errantly. "Klaus, I mean." Emma frowned as he ignored her, but didn't interrupt. Instead, she paled slightly. "So he met you, I guess, when you were introduced."

Emma's frown deepened at that. "So?" she said quickly. "Why does it matter if he met me?"

Damon tilted his head to the side and smiled. "Well—"

But Emma interrupted. "Oh no." She said loudly and quickly. "That's not happening, buddy." She lifted an accusatory finger and jabbed it in his face, stepping close to him and scowling. "Don't do your tilt head-ey thing. That's what you do when you're pissed with Cameron for sleeping over, or when you were angry with Tara and Alex. You don't use that face with me."

Evidentially, she knew him well in some areas.

Although, in others?

Damon stepped forward. She was close to him already, so when he stepped forward, she instinctively stepped backwards. He continued to move, until her back thudded into the solid wall of the hall. Even then, he was close enough to feel her breath on his face.

She swallowed. "What are you—?"

"I'll use whatever face I want, Emma." Damon snarled angrily. His fists had clenched again, and in an effort to not get violent (not that he'd ever hit a girl. Or really, Emma or Elena) he pressed one of his fists up against the wall, beside Emma's head. Her bag of groceries fell to the ground with a thump.

There was a moment of silence during which Damon stared at Emma. He could see in her eyes that she had no idea what to do in this situation. There was anger that he was trying to intimidate her, there was the slightest hint of fear and then, hidden behind everything else, Damon could see the look that Emma always looked at him with.

It was a look that, until now, Damon had never thought much of. It wasn't as though he'd read book on kids or anything—but he knew that it was common for young girls to have crushes on the older men in their life. And in Emma's—until last year—there was really just the Cameron kid, and him. It was only expected.

Still, at that point, all Damon had thought of was Katherine. Getting her out of that tomb was his only intention and he was happy to ignore it. He usually ignored it—until the rare moments when she frustrated him to the point when his crueller side would throw it in her face. It had only happened once—at that Lockwood party when she'd been pissed about Caroline—but he'd watched as the delicate flush of her warm blood spread across his cheeks and had been proud with how she'd handled him. Angry and indignant she'd told him with her glare and a vicious _'Go to hell, Damon'_, that he could ignore her all he wanted—but she would not allow him to mock her.

In a moment that both annoyed Damon and filled him with pride, Emma glowered at him and lifted both of her (now free) hands, and pressed them firmly on his chest. Pushing hard on him (even if the force was barely even enough to move a normal person), Damon moved back a little, giving Emma enough room to breathe. Once he was a normal distance away (well, maybe for Damon,) she took a deep breath.

"What's going on?" She said.

Infuriatingly, her voice wasn't the calm that Damon had grown accustomed to from Elena whenever he went through a bad day (except when he killed her little brother. Or Vicki). No. Instead, Emma was just as furious as he was. It appeared that maybe parts of his temper had rubbed off on his selfish ward.

"I couldn't help but notice that your boy had gone—did you wanna tell me how that happened."

Emma couched slightly before nodding. "I was going to tell you—he, I mean—I let him—"

"You let him _go?_" Damon had sounded angry enough anyway—but he didn't bother holding back as he let his fist sail through the air and collide with the wall. Smashing through the plaster instantly, and denting the brick behind it only because he pulled back. And, if Stefan was downstairs, he would have been given his answer. Emma certainly flinched—more than that, she let out a little yelp and cowered away from the wall.

"_Jesus—_Damon, I'm sorry—"

"Klaus met _you."_ He said, smiling with terrifying, wide eyes as he pulled his hand from the wall, and shook of the white powder that was left on his skin.

She faltered. "So?"

Damon's smirk fell, to be replaced by the cold, unaffected features that intimidated so many. "So, Emma, he reminded me that there is a reason Katherine had me look after you." He said.

Emma paled, but said nothing.

"And now he knows." Damon continued. "And he's _fascinated _by you, Emma. Isn't that great?" He didn't give her time to respond. "Now, I don't care about your inflated sense of self importance. You're going to tell me what the hell is going on with you—and you're damn well going to tell me _now." _

**.:.**

_Emma_

The question should have filled me with fear.

And, trust me when I say that it really, _really _did.

Fear drenched me like someone had just poured a bowl of freezing water over the top of my head. With a side dish of dread, dropped like an egg. As much as it should have made me want to run away as far as I could be Damon was angry, it did. And he certainly didn't seem willing to let me brush the question off this time.

I cleared my throat.

"Damon, it's complicated—I mean, I need—I just—oh god." As I spluttered into my own hands, tears in my eyes and hands shaking, Damon didn't move. Instead, he stayed still, and just watched me for a moment, before throwing his hands into the air with frustration.

"It's _complicated?" _he echoed furiously. "Oh, right, because that's something you and I are completely unfamiliar with, right?"

I swallowed slightly, still shaking. My own reaction was kind of freaking me out.

Damon was angry. He was furious even. Whatever it was, it wasn't an environment I should have been feeling calm. And I didn't feel _calm,_ per say. But the fear that I was feeling? The fear and the dread? It had nothing to do with Damon's actions.

Sure, I hadn't ever seen him as angry as this—but I'd seen him in any other place. I'd seen him sad and happy and all the other obscure emotions that he apparently thought I couldn't see. So, he was angry. That didn't mean that I didn't trust him.

Oh no. I still trusted Damon. I still loved Damon.

But, goddamn, I was terrified of what he was going to say when I told him. I was shaking because this was it. This was the information that, when Damon found out, could spell the end of any relationship that I thought we had. Whatever it was—me and him, best friends, guardian and guarded, that other thing that I wasn't going to give a name to.

"It _is!" _I shouted at him, cringing when I heard how pathetic I sounded. "I mean—you'll hate me. You'll _hate _me."

Humiliatingly, I followed that particular declaration with a loud, hysterical sob. I wasn't crying, either. I was just incredibly pathetic.

Damon stilled.

Then the only noise was my hysterical, loud, mouth breathing. Which was just exactly what I wanted, you know.

To my surprise, I didn't hear Damon scoff incredibly, or notice him roll his eyes (not that I would have seen much, since I had buried my hand in my hands and wasn't looking anywhere but down at my own feet). Instead, I felt his arms, stretch around me before pulling me into one of his hugs.

I let my hands fall when my head was pressed against his black t-shirt (another designer one that he wouldn't be happy to see tear stained). Clutching at the shirt—the same place where I'd pushed him away from me earlier, I noticed randomly—I let myself stop my stupid sobbing and calm myself down. Deep breaths, I told myself.

Damon seemed to have calmed as well. Now, his gentle hand was stroking through my newly dyed hair and I was slightly disturbed to notice that it was the same hand that had smashed through the wall. The other was holding me close to his body, resting around my waist, making me feel small and protected.

"I won't hate you, you moron." Damon said, letting his chin rest on the crown of my head. I chuckled slightly, into his shirt at the phrase. I could practically hear his smirk—but I could tell when he fell more serious. Pulling away slightly, he made sure I was looking right at him—his hands on both of my cheeks—and sighed. "I won't ever hate you."

I swallowed and nodded, but he wasn't done.

"I need to know, Em." He said.

I nodded silently.

Still with his arms around me, he led me further into the house and into the living room. I couldn't really tell, from the small amount I could see, but once we stopped, Damon was happy to pull me down on the couch—and sit next to me. He didn't move one of his arms, keeping it around my shoulders, but he pulled back and looked at me more closely.

"Em, Klaus _knows. _Whatever it is, Katherine and now Klaus know all about it—and Klaus isn't just going to let it go."

I nodded, making sure that my breathing didn't get out of control all over again.

One, big deep breath, I told myself.

One, big, deep breath.

"Katherine killed my parents," I began with, flinching slightly as I said it out loud. I never liked to think about them—even if my Dad was becoming more worrying every time he was mentioned. "Katherine said that we had gone to see a movie, or something."

Damon nodded. "Dracula." He said. "It had just come out in the nineties. I remember asking around—trying to see what happened. I knew it was a vampire—and when I found out Katherine was still alive, I kind of assumed."

I nodded, and sighed. "Well, apparently—"

For someone who had been so furious about getting the truth just moment ago, Damon seemed fine with waiting for the answers. I was surprised when he interrupted me with a hand. "Hang on," he said. Then he stood from the couch.

I was alone for a mere moment as he blurred out of the room, before he was back. In his hand, he was holding out a worn piece of paper—that looked old, but well kept.

"She sent it to me." Damon said, as he thrust the paper in my face. "This is why I found you—and looked after you.

I snatched it from his grasp and hastily unfolded it—making a point not to fold it.

_To my Damon, _

_It has been less than a day since we have spoken, but I am sure you are to enquire as to my absence from the church this morning. While I know that you know my secret, and my motives, you should make my apology clear to your father and brother at your earliest convenience. I meant no offence by not being there. _

_I have been to see a seer. She has told me troubling news about the future, yours and mine, as well as the fate of your brother. I will tell you everything when I return home this evening. Otherwise, you will receive this letter sometime in the future, can I not give it to you myself. _

_The seer has told me of a girl of the future—one who will be a relation of mine should everything go well. Unfortunatley, it seems that I will be unable to look after the child myself, as should be my duty. The seer refused to tell me what would happen, but I spared her life for the information she could give me. You will be like me, my love. You will be in my future—you will be my saviour. _

_It is because of this that I ask you now. Find the child that I speak of. If I am unable to bring you the letter myself, I will give it to someone else—someone who will find you. _

_Look after the child. Nurture her. Never drink from her. Do not try to kill her. She is far too important._

_I know that it is too much to ask of you, my love, but I find that there is no one else I trust as implicitly as yourself. If you truly love me, you will do this for me. _

_I will be with you in no time, but until then, _

_All my love, _

_Katherine. _

The first thing that bothered me was the pretentious way that she had scrawled the 'K' of her name. It was like calligraphy. In fact, most of the letter was written in perfect cursive that bothered me.

Obviously, it wasn't the only thing.

When it actually hit me that this letter was about me, I read it another time. I could plainly see the instructions that Katherine had used to make sure that Damon never figures out exactly why Katherine thought I was so important.

"I didn't know it then," Damon was saying. "But she obviously hadn't been to see a seer or sent this from the past—I don't even know if seers exist..." he mused. "Still, I did what she asked." He paused for a moment. "I thought you might need to read it."

I didn't say anything.

Clearly, it unnerved Damon. "Emma?" He asked nervously.

Finally I found my words.

"God, she was a _bitch _in the eighteenth century." I said slowly. My mind entertained thoughts of every single group of girls who would have bitched about her behind her back and I sniggered to myself—before I realised she would have probably killed them all and I sobered up.

Damon chuckled slightly. He lowered himself back onto the couch, watching me carefully.

No putting it off anymore, I guess.

"I have vervain in my blood."

There was a moment of silence during which Damon just stared at me, before he frowned. "Seriously?" he said quickly. "That's it?"

I suddenly got the distinct feeling that he didn't quite understand what I was saying. Before I could clear it up, however, he was on his feet.

"That's what Klaus was talking about?" he sounded incredulous. "What the hell? Elena has vervain in her system—nearly everyone in this town has it. Hell, _Katherine_ even drinks it. It doesn't do anything to Originals _anyway, _so what would—?"

I interrupted him.

"Damon. I'm not saying I have vervain in my system." I tried to clarify. "I'm saying I have it in my blood."

Once again, Damon didn't understand.

"If you knew about vervain, why didn't you make your scooby gang take it as well? I mean, you're more selfish than me at points—"

"Hey!"

"—but I would have thought that you would at least tell them how to protect themselves from draining, or compulsion."

This time, I stood up as well—stomping my foot a little, which seemed to amuse Damon to silence, rather than make my point. I didn't blush though. I was going to make him understand.

"Damon. I don't do anything—or eat anything, or wear anything. Vervain occurs in my blood."

Damon fell still, but I continued. "_Naturally, _Damon. It's there all by itself."

**.:.**

I spent the next hour trying to explain to Damon, Stefan and Elena the technical realities of what was going on with me. Damon had decided, after I'd given him a preliminary explanation that it was probably better than Stefan and Elena come down, so that I didn't have to explain in detail, three times.

They'd both come down the stairs confused—Stefan looking cautious and Elena looking obliviously happy, even though I could see distinct tear stains on her cheeks.

But once I started talking, all they looked like was interested. And willing to listen.

"Lachlan was the one who told me about it first," I told them. "He didn't know anything about vervain—more than it was an herb that really shouldn't have been in my blood. They used to joke about how I was flavoured for the vampires—but I guess that's not how it works."

Damon snorted. He was far calmer now that he had his answers. "Try flavouring your strawberry milkshakes with arsenic, Em."

I smiled at that, but made sure I kept my mind on the right things. "So, once I was in the city, Lachie had Connor do some tests on my blood and we found some things. First," he said, "we found out that it was the result of genetic sequencing—it's actually in my DNA. It occurs there naturally. Lachie did some digging and found that his dad and my dad—who used to own the company we were working for—injected it into the amniotic fluid while my mother was pregnant and it sort of went from there."

Despite the fact that they were both ages old, both Stefan and Damon reacted the same way any boy would to the word 'amniotic fluid'. Damon looked at his hands, while Stefan coughed awkwardly. I caught a smirk from Elena before I continued. I suppose they had been born in the eighteenth century.

As I explained, I noted glumly that the headache I'd complained about to Matt had returned full force. I would have to grab one of those pills from the grocery bag on the floor in the hall, I reminded myself, before I made myself keep talking. This time, it was accompanied by a queasy feeling in my stomach.

Excellent, I thought. Just what I needed right now.

"So after we'd looked at where it came from, we decided to look at what it was doing. Obviously, since we didn't know anything about vervain and vampires... we looked at what it was doing to me."

Damon's eyebrows shot up.

"Nothing bad, at the moment." I said. "I mean, I haven't gotten sick in a long time—but you knew that Damon. Other than that, all we know is it's doing _something._"

Damon looked distinctly alarmed, I noted with an inner shiver of glee. Not that I should have been thinking about that at this point.

"So then we started looking at how to get rid of it, if I needed to. So far, everything we've tried hasn't worked—but that's one of the reasons Lachie went back—to talk to his dad and see if they knew more than we did this whole time—which we think that they really did."

I finished on that, and only then did I decide that it was probably not the strongest ending. Still, the others seemed to be deep in thought.

It was silent for a few more minutes, during which I twiddled my thumbs and awkwardly tried not to look at people. Finally, it was Stefan who broke the silence.

"If Klaus is interested in this it makes it more complicated. But, for the moment, Emma is safe in here." He said, speaking more to Damon than the other two of us. Then he stood, and turned to help Elena up. "We're just going back to Elena's for a second—to grab some of her things—but once that's sorted, we'll be back."

Damon nodded but didn't move, more than to press a firm hand down on my knee.

I ignored the tingle (or frission, as I had been told to call it) and tried to make sure that Damon didn't notice.

Oh, who was I kidding?

Still, we remained silent until the door had shut, the noise echoing around the large house. We were silent for another second, before Damon spoke.

"You thought I would hate you?"

The way he had said it sounded different, in a way. I had only heard him sound like this that night—when he'd looked frailer than an old man and had told me to go get some blood for him from the butcher because he was a vampire.

I shifted on the couch so that I was facing him, pulling my knees up onto the couch and tucking them under my butt. Then I sighed.

"I wasn't going to take the chance, no."

Damon sighed, and I felt compelled to continue to explain myself.

"Lachlan told me I had to wait until I trusted you." I said quietly. I felt Damon tense slightly and again, was explaining the statement before I'd even really thought about it. "I do, I mean," I stammered. "He doesn't, though..."

"Why?" Damon asked.

I frowned.

"Well," I said, confused, "it probably has something to do with you breaking his nose and stuff."

Damon looked at me funny for a minute before smirking.

"I meant you, Em. Why do _you _trust me?"

I flushed almost instantly, even though I didn't really know why. My neck felt hot almost instantly and the room felt warmer than it had a couple of minutes ago. (Plus, Damon's hand was still resting on my knee, and that was just a BIT distracting).

Still, in my usual eloquent fashion, I shrugged. "I dunno," I mumbled, looking at my own hands in my lap. "I just do, you know...you're you..."

That should have been where it stopped. That should have been all the questions that Damon had for me. I mean, my answer was good enough, right?

Apparently not.

Damon leant forward and reached for my shoulders, moving me so that I couldn't look away from his damn pretty eyes. He looked like he was about to ask something but I was' going to wait for a question. Instead, it looked like I was going to babble my mouth off.

"Look, Damon, I trust you because I trust you." I said quickly and loud. "I trust you now because I was able to trust you when you told me you were a vampire. Because you've always been there for me. And the only time you _really_ hurt me, it turned out that it wasn't you anyway. And if that was the only factor, I would have told you as soon as I found out. But it wasn't—and you leaving me would be the worst thing I can think of in my entire life—and that wasn't an option."

He continued to stare at me. I read his eyes again—the question was asked again: _why? _

"Because," I said quickly. "Aside from the whole bitchy vampire that killed my parents dig, I'm really glad that you came into my life. And I've been away from you for like a year, and it's all I can do to not cry every time I see that you're here and your email was a fake. And, it's weird and pathetic and embarrassing but I _need _you. I mean, I really need you to be around—and no one else fits that Damon shaped hole—it's you, Damon. It'll always be you."

After I finished saying it, I realised exactly what I'd just said.

My cheeks flamed a shade that could only be puce, or purple.

"And by that, I mean, in a completely platonic, non-weird kind of way, you kno—"

I was then silenced by my head exploding.

And by that, I mean, that was legitimately what I thought it was when Damon ducked his head forward and pressed his very, soft lips to mine.

It was no wonder my head didn't explode.

It didn't happen slowly, like everyone said it did. Faster than I had really noticed, Damon had his hands on my hips, and his lips softly brushing across mine. Kissing him was better than I'd ever imagined—I'd never thought about the smell of him or the taste of him and how it was intensified tenfold because he was just right _here. _

It took me about a second to realise what was happening, and once I had, I couldn't really help myself. Reaching up with my own hands, I pushed one hand to the back of his head, finally playing with the hair that I'd been admiring since I'd gotten back here—it was so much longer. My other hand pulled softly at his neck as he deepened the kiss.

Quicker than I could even think, Damon was away again. Pulling back, I opened my eyes to catch his hooded gaze. I stared at him for a second, and then swallowed slightly. My lips were still tingling.

Damon licked his lips quickly, before he too, swallowed. Then he blinked a couple of times and pulled back further. His hands remained where they were.

"You should..." he started. "Um... we should."

The door slammed open and Stefan stumbled in, muttering loudly to himself about how Elena didn't have bags enough for all of the things she wanted to bring with her.

"Damon," he called into the house. "Can you please come and help? Elena's having a hard time with Jenna and, well, you know."

Damon lingered for another moment before taking a deep breath. "Sure thing," he said. Then he and his brother were gone again.

I fell backwards into the couch with a loud sigh.

**.:. **

**A/N: **YEAH. A SECOND UPDATE. GOOD AUTHOR POINTS? I reckon so...

You know what else gets me author points?

KISSSIIINNNNNGG. SMOOOCHIE SMOOOOCHIE TIMME. BOW CHICA WOW WOW! (I figured in honour of the I'd publish it tonight :P)

Now. REVIEW. That is an order, my friends, because this is a rare moment when I am a GOOD AUTHOR on this site, and have UPDATED PROMPTLY. (With that in mind, it'll probably be about a week for the next chapter! Sorry! Still, you have been forewarned.)

PEACE, MA WATSONS (Sherlock Holmes reference, wadddup?)

PS. I was gunna ask this last chapter but I forgot. So, in the show, a lot of the characters call Caroline 'Care' or 'Car' but I don't know how to spell it. So what do you think? She'll be making her reappearance next chapter, guys, so I need that in review.

REVIEW! xxx

PPS. Colossal apologies for my colossal rant, earlier. *Smiles nervously and then shuffles out of the room awkwardly*

KISSES AGAIN.


	12. The Ride

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

Nb.**SO**, this time, I have a legit reason for not updating. I have been on holiday down at the coast (which was AHWESOME). I did have internet access, but only barely, and I was kind of engulfed in a Klaroline whirlwind while I was up there. So yes, I wrote those two one shots (*insert shameless plug* ;P) so go check them out. I've also started writing a short story for _The Hunger Games _fandom, which I'm easily updating once a day, which made me feel BAD.

And I couldn't just leave you guys, could I?

In good news from the home front, I got into the University that I applied to, which means that next week, I'll be in ORIENTATION WEEK, and becoming one of those 'indie-I'm-so-much-cooler-than-you-it's-like-we're-a-different-species' students! (Excittteedd! :P)

Thanks for the reviews from_ May-Flowers99, Kara, shippolove844, GirlAtTheRockShow, DGfleetfox, SomebodyWhoCares, Rae, belleslvr1867, SheWhoDreamsOutLoud, Charismilena, veni Vidi Vichi, ThisLooksLikeaJobForMe, chase83 _and _Marina64509 _for all the readers dedicated support.

**.:.**

So, I read Wuthering Heights.

I didn't like it. Catherine was a pain and Heathcliff had some clear anger management issues (and let's be honest, I wasn't really focusing on the words most of the time: whenever I heard Damon and Stefan talking downstairs, etc.) But still, I could see why people would like it. It wasn't just an idealized account of a sappy love affair—it was one of the most honest representations of how annoying people could get—and love, for that matter, if what was happening to me was any indication.

It had only been about six hours since Damon had kissed me. In those six hours, Damon had had time to go and help Stefan and Elena and then return five minutes before Stefan had. He'd had time to go heat up some blood, if I'd heard correctly through the thin wood of the door, and he'd also had time to play an invigorating game of chess with Stefan, that they followed up with a loud argument that I hoped had nothing to do with me. And I'd had time to lie on my bed in a stupor for about an hour, and then read a two-hundred and sixty paged book (at least in the version that the Salvatore's owned).

And trust me.

I wasn't what anyone would call a fast reader.

Oh.

Any my headache had time to meet a girl, settle down and have a bunch of badly behaved headache babies.

Whatever the analogy, my head hurt like a bad thing, and the headache pills weren't really helping.

Basically, the point was that in six hours (during which he'd played a game of _chess) _he hadn't had the decency to come up and talk to me. And you know, you'd think that you'd want to avoid any sort of talk about what happened—but I was damn confused and I wanted some answers.

I was still bemoaning this particular thought (as I had been for the past ten minutes) when I heard a vibration on the table beside me. I had been in a space out of my own mind until then, I reasoned, which is why the noise took me so off guard. I yelped, fell to the side and slammed my hand down on the offending noise.

My phone.

After taking a moment to consider how much of that the two vampires in the house would have heard—and the possibility that they might not be laughing at me at that very moment—I fell back onto my back, bringing my phone with me.

It was a text from Cameron.

_Em, _it read. _Lachlan told me to text you if he didn't come back in two hours. I don't know why. -C_

It was a little more than disconcerting. Come back from where? My mind instantly demanded. And why wasn't he back from wherever he'd gone. If it was a club, then one could only assume he'd lucked out and was hooking up with some girl at her twatchelor pad—but why would he have Cam text me?

The second time the phone vibrated, it was in my hand, and I reacted with far more dignity.

Opening the next message (again from Cam) I read:

_Sorry, I forgot. He also told me to tell you that 'it was way worse that you thought.' Whatever that means… :S -C_

Of course, upon reading it, I followed it with at least five minutes of heavy, deep (and not at all distracted by Damon) thought.

First of all, I had to remember what it was that I had thought—that Lachlan could have been talking about, I mean. Straining, I tried to remember the specifics from the conversation we had. It wasn't very detailed, I thought, since I had been (you guessed it,) distracted by thoughts of Damon at the time, but it wasn't as though I was an invalid.

I had paid _a little_ attention.

So, I decided, it was time for me to sort out the thoughts in my own head.

Lachlan had been upset, because he had proof that his father had been lying to the both of us. And he and I had made the decision for him to go back and ask his dad exactly what else that he'd been hiding from us and why. If my dad and his had known so much more about this stuff than they'd let on, why would they let us run around like four year olds with our stake guns and our holy water?

I heard Damon stroll past the door, humming as he went.

Yep. Damon.

_Humming. _

Damon had never hummed in his entire life—unless it was one of his old fashioned bands with the creepy music, and he was making fun of me.

Was that what this was? He was _making fun _of me?

Scrunching up my face to contain the fury, I made a quick decision. Dialing Cameron's phone number, I moved into the bathroom that joined onto my room, and closed the door. I heard Cameron pick up the phone but I didn't greet him until I'd turned on the tap.

Once the water was running I felt that it was safe to speak. "Come in Horn-dog," I hissed into the receiver. "Pick up horn-dog."

There was a pause.

"_Horn-dog?" _

I hesitated.

"Wasn't that your code name?" I asked, blinking at my own reflection in the mirror.

"No it_ bloody well was not._"

"Crap," I said scrunching up my nose. "What was it?"

"It was _night-dog,_ you moron."

I paused again.

"Well, who thought that up?" I demanded. "What does that even mean? Who's going to remember _that?" _

"It's like a wild dog," Cameron said instantly. "You know, like the wild African hunting dogs who have this weird little chirping noise and are the most successful hunters in Afric—you know what, forget it." He sighed dejectedly.

Serves him right. "Horn-dog is so much cooler," I told him brightly, to lift his spirits.

I could feel his glare coming through the phone, and swallowed slightly. As I watched the water run down the drain, I couldn't help but think of the people in Africa who were desperate for clean water that I was just pouring down the sink. I quickly decided to plug to sink. Waste not, want not.

"What do you want, Em?" He asked, tightly. His lips were probably pulled together the way they were whenever he was stressed. He tightened them so much that they got paler, and sort of blended into his face.

I tried not to think about it.

"What do you mean, what do I want?" I said, frowning. "You're the one who sent me those texts."

Cameron made a non-committal noise that suggested that he was shrugging.

"_Mnyeah," _was the noise. "But that was just what Lachie told me to send to you, and you know, he's a _crazy person_ so I thought whatever."

I rolled my eyes. Cameron always thought the people on my side were the bad guys. I wasn't sure how I was going to get him to like Damon again. It had taken me seventeen years to convince him the first time. I could always blame Lachie, but I think Cameron was ever constantly amused by Lachie's conspiracy theories that he'd be angry with me for making him angry at his source of entertainment.

"Cameron!" I hissed. "This was important."

Another '_mnyeah'_ noise, followed by a tired groan. "He was going on about some '_fourth initiative' _or something, and about how his dad had been lying. It was your every day family dispute."

Well, maybe. If the family was one of those totally messed up families—like Damon and me. I had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Lachlan's dad was an even scarier piece of work than Damon when he was in his scary vampire mode.

It was just as I was thinking about this, that I realized the sink had quickly filled itself up. Frowning, I reached to pull the plug out, before realizing why I'd put it in there in the first place.

I let go of the plug quickly, frantically searching for a way to fix this before the water spilled over the edge. I grabbed the cup that Damon kept his toothbrush (gross) in, and emptied it. Scooping it in the water, I took a long drink before finally speaking.

"It's important, Cam. Where did Lachie say he was going?"

Cam paused this time. Then he said, "Wow, you sound serious. Jeez, what's going on?"

I swallowed a huge gulp of water before taking a deep breath, and filling the cup again. "Look," I said quickly. "I'm coming home. I'll explain to you when I get there. Can you pick me up from the bus stop?"

Cameron was silent.

"Cam?"

"Oh, crap. I was nodding. I forgot you couldn't see me. Yeah, sure. Call me when you hit the city limits."

I smiled—even though I was the only one who could see it, in the reflection of the mirror. "Yeah, sure." I said. "Bye."

I hastily hung up, so I could finally turn the tap off.

I stared at the full sink for a moment, reasoning to myself. I hadn't been drinking much water recently—I was probably dehydrated, and that wasn't something you wanted to be if you were planning on sneaking away from your vampire guardian (or whatever he was post-kiss) and catching a bus to the city.

I made my decision. It didn't take me long to get the sink down half way, before I decided if I drank any more water I'd throw up. I emptied the sink, after splashing some soap in there, so that Damon would think I'd just been washing my hands or something, and then thought to my game plan.

How was I going to get out of this house?

It would be difficult, that was for sure. But I could figure it out. First things first?

I had to pee.

**.:.**

Alright, I thought, as the bus drove over a pothole and I jumped in my seat. So, getting out had been easier than I thought it had. And, it hadn't even really required that much lying.

Well no.

It had required a lot of lying.

But, not as much as I'd expected.

I'd walked out of the bathroom soon after my call to Cam, bright red in the face because I was stressing that if a vampire could hear a tap running in the bathroom, who's to say they hadn't heard me pee? It seemed that if it were the case, Damon and Stefan didn't care, because neither of them were outside, rolling on the floor with laughter when I exited.

I had been in the middle of packing a day bag (well, three of Damon's black shirts and a pair of my own black skinnies) when the man (vampire?) himself had come into.

Because, of course, after six hours of avoiding me, he'd come to chat just when I was planning on skipping town.

Thank god the bag I was packing was just an oversized, fake Louis Vuitton.

"What are you up to?" he drawled as he casually strolled into the room.

Yeah.

_Casually. _

That asshole.

"I thought I'd go visit Matt again," I improvised. "I'm still worried that he hates me—and I thought that maybe he and I could go grab a bite at the Grill or something."

Waiting. Waiting…

Damon frowned.

_Damnit. _He didn't buy it.

"Is this because of what happened? You trying to run away from me?"

Okay. So, maybe he did buy it.

Still, the question he'd asked changed the entire atmosphere of the room. Awkwardness was suddenly the forefront emotion of the space (pah, as if it hadn't been before) and I froze in my act of trying to make sure he couldn't see what was in my bag.

I swallowed and stared at my hands, before taking a deep breath.

"What?" I said, "No." Then I snorted.

Unfortunatley for me, it hadn't come out as calm as I'd intended. Because, obviously, my life sucks, my voice chose that moment to rise a few tones and decibels. The result was, of course, my supposedly casual brush off, came out sounding like a talking chipmunk, screaming at him.

He stared at me.

It would have been so much better if he chuckled or did something.

"Em."

"Hey, is Caroline a vampire?"

My voice was still high, but I wasn't as loud this time. So now I just sounded marginally stressed out of my mind.

"Em."

"Because, Matt said something that made me think she was. But then I thought, how would Matt know anyway, because isn't this towns whole issue with vampires a huge secret? But then I thought, if he was right—why the _hell _is Caroline a vampire? Did you know that when you were dating her? Because I mean, that would explain—"

He moved quicker than I could see, and was suddenly in front of me, holding my shoulders and bending his head so that he was looking into my eyes.

My breath caught in my throat.

"Em." He said for a third time.

This time I didn't interrupt.

"I need you to not freak out right now." He said, lifting his hands, once again, to my cheeks. Sneaking backwards, he cradled my face in his hands.

I swallowed. "I'm not freaking out. You're freaking out."

Oh, good one, Em.

Still, my petulant response made his chuckle. Slowly, he rests his forehead against mine and I can't help it when my eyes flutter close. It's nice having him this close—I can feel him, smell him, have him. I like it.

He didn't kiss me, but then again, I hadn't expected him to. It wasn't a gesture about my feelings or whatever was going through his head. It was about our friendship, and that all it needed to be about.

Until he pulled back that is.

I exhaled softly as he pulled away, my eyes opening. I blinked at him a couple of times, my throat dry.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just—you said. I couldn't really help it."

It took me a minute to realize that he was really, actually, honestly, apologizing for _kissing_ me. As though I hadn't wanted it to happen for more than a year now.

I stared up at him with big, round confused eyes. (Or, at least, I hope that's what they were. There was a very good job I'd just widened my eyes at him like I was trying to widen my gaze or something. Yikes.)

"Please don't." I said quickly.

He started slightly, like I'd said something offensive, so I hastened to correct myself. I clutched at the hands he was already pulling away from me.

"Don't apologise," I verified. "Not about kissing me."

Instinctively, my eyes flickered to his lips. Oh god.

Look _away. _

I managed to pull my gaze back up to meet his eyes. Despite what I had just said, it was me to pull away, stepping backward, and out of his grasp.

He stared at me, still confused. Not as confused as me, I thought though. He was a vampire. Surely they could sort out their thoughts better than us mere mortals.

Well, they sure as hell moved faster, I noted again, when suddenly, he was in front of me. I stepped back in alarm, the backs of my legs touching the mattress. _Wow, _I thoughts quickly. Where did _those _thoughts come from? I pushed them all from my head, when Damon reached down and touched my chin, pulling my face up to meet his.

"I don't want to scare you away."

His face was way too close to mine for my mind to be working. I stared at him for a moment. "You didn't. You won't."

My voice was small and kind of pathetic, but his super-duper enhanced hearing combined with his proximity took care of that.

His gaze flicked to my lips, before back to my eyes.

I suddenly understood all of those romance books that said stuff like: _his gaze pierced me and a warmth spread in my loins._

Because _let me tell you._ His eyes were piercing.

And, oh boy, my loins were a warmth-ing.

"I don't want to lose you." He said, his tone the same gravelly whisper that was Jane-Austen-ing me back to the eighteenth century (or whenever that chick lived).

My voice matched his—only in a super unsexy way. I kind of sounded like a man.

"You won't."

With only that one finger curling near my neck, he stared down at me for a second. His breath was heavy on my face, and for an insane moment, I wondered if vampires could get bad breath. What did blood even smell like?

"I'm going to kiss you again." He said suddenly.

Right. Okay.

So not the time for blood smelling thoughts. Not that my thoughts were in any way coherent at this point. They were spinning around in my head so frantically—it was like when two cheerleader reunited after summer break—all screaming and enthusiastic energy that doesn't have any obvious source? Yeah.

That's what my thoughts were doing.

And my loins weren't helping.

In the time that I had to make that odd little mind metaphor, I had blinked, and swallowed, keeping my eyes locked firmly on Damon's ice blue gaze.

"Kay." I barely even whispered. Swallowing hadn't helped. My throat was dry. Drier than—

Wow. Okay. Damon lips. Lips of Damon. That quickly put an end to my stupid internal similes. Instead, I focused on him. His lips were brushing lightly across mine—not nearly the kiss we'd had downstairs. That kiss had been as though he was trying to drink me in (and I only say that because I was like, ten times worse, and I was trying not to think about it). But this kiss was soft and sweet and I found that all the hours of kissing the crook of my elbow for kissing practice didn't even matter because, goddamn, I was a natural at this.

And _good_ lord if Damon's eternal life had taught him anything it was how to kiss. The boy was like—_well, _let's just say he did it well.

That was about the time when my thoughts finally gave up, let the excitement take them, and exploded.

And, by the way, if my loins were warm earlier, then it was like a frigging furnace burning down there now. Like those ovens that you put pottery in to dry. Kiln or something. They went to like six-hundred degrees.

Yeah, my stomach was a freaking pottery cooker.

Still, hopefully that wasn't one of those vampire senses that Damon used so casually. I hadn't bothered to ask if he had x-ray vision yet, or anything.

Still, now probably wasn't the time to ask.

So I settled for blinking at him.

Because I'm a smooth talker like that.

Our parting had been awkward following that. I was still trying to convince him that I was heading out to Matt's to hang with him, despite the fact that my mind had stopped functioning and gone on a long term holiday for the time being, and he had backed off again, because I had apparently not reacted quite the way he wanted.

But, really, who could blame me? This was a complicated freaking mess. I wasn't just going to jump his bones.

He was a vampire, wasn't he? I mean, sure, he was my best friend and my oldest confident and I trusted him with everything from my life to my heart. But he was also like, super old, and had known me since I was a little kid.

And I would die before I let myself mess up our relationship because of a crush.

Needless to say, by the time the bus pulled into the stop, back in the city, I was in a bad mood. I hadn't really noticed us arrive—being too caught up in my own thoughts. But I had definitely noticed the phone calls from Damon and Elena—and even one from Stefan—when they realised that I wasn't at Matt's. I also, realised belatedly, that I'd forgotten to get the whole Caroline issue sorted out before I'd left.

Which was just another question that I didn't need bothering me right now.

I stomped off the bus, swinging the bag over my shoulder and turning my phone off before shoving it into the dark of Damon's clothes. I looked around for a mere moment before I spotted Cameron in all his glory, watching me with a frown on his face.

I moved over to him quickly and pulled him into a hug. Despite his mood from the phone earlier, he seemed happy enough to see me, and returned the hug enthusiastically.

"I missed you." I told him when I pulled away.

Because if there was anyone I could count on, aside from Damon, it was Cam. He'd always been there for me, and I needed him. Probably more than he needed me.

"I missed you, too," he said, snatching my bag from my grasp and swinging it onto his shoulder, lifting his other arm and letting it rest heavily on my shoulders. "You're going to explain where you've been though, you know that right?"

I smiled slightly, and nodded, lifting my own arm up, to hug him as we walked. "I'll tell you everything, dude." I promised. "But first, can you answer my question?'

Cameron looked at me quizzically for a moment before shrugging and nodding. "Sure."

"What the _hell_ does 'loin' mean?"

**.:.**

**A/N: **Okay guys. I know that this was a little complicated, but I hope you all got it. And don't be alarmed, I don't plan on having Damon separated from Emma for long—but I am keen to remember that Emma has her own plot in this fic—and I want to really focus on her parents and her blood and answer those questions.

I also wanted to really address Damon's relationship with Emma, and how she feels about it. I keep having to remind myself that it's far more serious than I'd thought when I first started the Anomaly, and I don't want this to be one of those lame stories that just disregards all the complications when they finally have their moments. So both Damon and Emma are super confused right now.

I'll update soon, but please keep up the reviewing. It's bee dropping guys, and I feel like no one is reading. Keep in mind that it's really only your reviews that motivate me to update. And (because I'm having a bad day) I'm willing to threaten to hold chapters ransom next time :P :P

Cheers though guys. Xx

PS. I just wanted to brag for a moment about how I finally got around to getting my drivers licence. I'M GETTING A CAR.

PPS. Check out my Klaroline stories. Yes, this is a plug. I feel no shame. I have no regrets. ;P


	13. The Endeavour

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

Nb. I'm a horrible author. You should all just stake me. (Those two sentences sound so much cooler if you sing them in a creepy little girls voice. Just sayin).

ALRIGHT *** dodges the flying rotten fruit*** I KNOW, I AM TERRIBLE. AND UNRELIABLE. AND SHITTY. I got swept up in the Klaroline worldwind and the Avenger's world, and NOTHING could stop me. So I apologise.

But I'm here for you and Damon and Emma now. So let's get to the chapter.

Thanks for the reviews from_ SomebodyWhoCares, Marina164509, Veni Vedi Vichi, FamiliarTasteofPoison, Sally, May-Flowers, Rae, Azalia Fox Knightling, chase 83 _and _missxsunchine_ for reviewing. Thanks to the rest of you for reading. ;) And big cheers to _myblacktears _and

**.:.**

I'm not in the right place for this, I decided instantly. I was being emotionally damaged, as well as a little bit physically if this damn headache wouldn't freaking leave me alone. I was in a whirlwind of confusion regarding where I stood to everyone else in my entire life, and then was really no reason for this much pressure to be put on me.

And yet...

"You just _took _off, you stupid bitch."

Lily was the one ranting at me, so I wasn't that offended by the violent words she was spewing at me. I'd been her friend for a long time, so I knew that this was just the way she was dealing with her anger. Better violent words than violent fists, I reasoned. Still, Cameron didn't seem to possess my incredibly logic, and let out a noise.

"Jeez, Lils, you don't need to be so harsh—"

"Don't even get me started on you." She snapped furiously.

There was a pause, during which I stayed silent and kept my eyes to the ground, while Cameron stared at Lily in confusion. Finally, he said "what? Lily, I haven't _done _anything."

She just glowered at him. "Then don't start now." She hissed at him before turning her attentions back to me.

I took a deep breath. "Now, Lily," I said, trying to placate her. That was about as far as I got before she started ranting at me again. It wasn't helping my headache at all, and it certainly wasn't helping Lachie wherever he was stuck. (Well, that's where I assumed he was gone. If it turned out that he had just got lost in some air conditioning vent because he was trying to be dramatic—let's just say I couldn't even begin to explain the bad things I'd do to him).

I ended up deciding that just taking all the abuse she was hurling at me was the best way to make this go faster. It had only been about fifteen minutes so far, after all, and we still had time before I called the police to list Lachie as a missing person.

Besides, the time that she was screaming at me could be better used for me to try and internally organise all the messed up crap going on in my life right now.

Okay, I thought. First, and probably more obviously, there was Damon. Beautiful, cute, sweet Damon who had kissed me right before I'd run back to the city. He'd never dealt well with liars, or people who left him—and I'd just managed to make myself both of them. It was a hurdle I had time to cross, but it would require a butt load of planning in advance.

Moving away from that uncomfortable thought, I went to my next problem. These ones, it appeared, stuck close to the City. Now that I was back, it wasn't nearly as easy to ignore all the problems I'd created.

The following of these being: Tara and Alex, Lachie's vanishing act, the Fourth's crazy conspiracy and the vervain in my blood that I couldn't get rid of.

Most of these problems could all be solved by one man. Mr. Lachie's dad, who'd been in charge (and funding) our little amateur vampire business, while he did things like study my blood and lie to his son. The only one that he probably couldn't help with was Tara and Alex, who, as far as I knew, hated my guts for lying to them.

Oh, and for being brought up by a vampire.

But still, he was a nice vampire now wasn't he? Sure, he had his (really, _really) _scary moments, and he sure as hell knew how to threaten people, but he wasn't killing people these days (as far as I knew) and still. Wasn't it just as harmless as killing animals?

No. It wasn't. But I didn't want to think about that.

Beside, how could a guy with such kissable lips be a bad guy?

Which brought me back to thinking about Damon lips and stuff and made me wince. Way to stick it to the brain, I thought. If I couldn't keep my hormone addled brain away from Damon for a couple of minutes, how was I going to manage for the months he would inevitably use to hate me for leaving him?) I was so doomed.

It was such a depressing though that I was happy to feel a vibration in my pocket, and I pulled out my phone.

"And another thing—_you did not just check your phone." _

Oh. Right.

I'd kind of forgotten that Lily was still there, ranting. My face paled as I caught a glimpse of her murderous expression, and I quickly put the phone face down on my lap. I lifting my hands in a 'hands up and drop the gun' kind of way and shrunk back into the seat I was sitting on. "Sorry!" I apologised hastily. "Someone was texting me."

Lily looked murderous. "I don't care if someone was freaking killing you, bitch." She thundered. "You don't just ignore me when I'm pissed." I wasn't put off by the verbal names she was using—bitch was really more of a pet name that we had for each other whenever we hung out—but I knew well enough not to pick the phone up again.

"I'm sorry." I said, looking at my knees.

"You better be," she said threateningly. "Now, _as I was saying—"_

It was a brave move interrupting her again. Some would say foolish, but I was happy to pretend I had courage for a moment. You'd need it, when facing the furious expression that spread on her face when I held up a hand to silence her.

Cameron inhaled a breath and held it.

"I don't just mean I'm sorry for interrupting you. Which I am. For the first time, and I guess, this time as well..." I clarified a bit nervously, standing from the chair and moving out of hitting distance (her anger management classes had been doing well as far as I knew, but I hadn't seen her in a while and I didn't want to know if she'd improved on her kick boxing). At her expression, I swallowed.

"Emma." She hissed a warning.

I backed up a couple more steps. "No," I said quickly. "I want to say this."

She looked angrier with this, but didn't say anything more.

Good. Right.

"Uhm..."

Lily let out a derisive groan, and I sped up my pace.

"I don't want to just apologise for interrupting. I want to apologise for leaving you guys and I want to apologise for not telling you guys where I was. I'm sorry that you had to hear it from Lachie, and I'm sorry that I haven't had time for you guys recently."

Wow. Saying it out loud made me realise what a crappy friend I was. No wonder Tara and Alex hated me so much these days. If I wasn't me, _I'd _hate me. But honestly, Tara and Alex are the ones I'm worried about. I'm a little concerned about Connor and really worried about Lachie—because they've always been close to me. But Cam and Lily? Even Lily I could deal with hating me. She had a violent temper and I knew that she'd always ultimately forgive me.

But seeing Cameron when I'd gotten off that bus had been a like a punch in the face. He'd taken my bags for me and he'd come to pick me up even though I'd really done nothing to deserve it. With Damon, he was one of the two most important people in my life.

I couldn't handle it if he hated me.

My worries appeared to be stupid though, because all too soon I found myself engulfed in one of Cam's tell, bony hugs, and Lily deflated, watching me with a sad, puppy dog look.

Then she let out a loud '_aauugghh' _and joined in on our hug, grabbing me from the other side and sandwiching me between my two friends. I laughed for a bit and smiled as they hug me, glad that they weren't angry with me. I'd need some friends in the future—and I couldn't imagine not needing them.

Lily sighed in my ear and I turned my head as best I could to look at her oddly. "What's up?" I asked, frowning.

She grinned. "Did I tell you that Cam and I are dating now?" she said errantly.

I had actually heard that before, I think. Something about Cam's early emails that told me that they were dating or hanging out or doing something naughty with each other whenever I wasn't around. Still, even having already known about it, being reminded of it makes me grimace.

I was stuck between them, you know.

"Yeah, you can let go of me now." I said awkwardly, pulling myself from their grasp.

Lily cackles with my reaction, before pulling me back into their reach and squeezing the life out of me all over again.

.:.

Serious now, the three of us get straight to action. Even if Lily only joined us for the first couple of minutes before she had to leave for her kickboxing class, the thought was still there. I winced as she kissed Cameron goodbye but I got over it kind of quickly by prioritising again.

Now, on my immediate list of problems? Getting out of this flat, _finding _Lachlan, and getting some more aspirin for this freaking headache.

Preferably not in that order. I sent Cameron into his kitchen to search for some medicine that could help while I looked closely at all the stuff I knew about the Fourth, mapped out on a couple of A4 sheets of paper.

Was it some terrible thing that I didn't know what Lachie's dad's name was?

I hoped it wasn't, since whenever I'd met the guy, he's just been going by Mr. Bossman, and had never gotten the chance to introduce himself to me casually. Lucky for me he hadn't been my guardian, I thought at about that point. I'd gotten lucky with the un-dead vampire who I've now got a huge crush on.

And really, what did that say about Mr. Lachie's Dad?

Cameron got back from the kitchen with a glass of water and a long lasting headache pill that he'd found in Lily's first aid kit. I had taken in gratefully, and was glad now that it was really beginning to kick in.

"So what's the plan?" Cameron asked, sitting down on the sofa opposite me, across on the other side of the coffee table where I'd laid down my knowledge.

I shrugged. "I was just kind of thinking of going there and demanding answers." I said simply. It wasn't very well developed but did I really sound like the kind of girl who could pull of espionage? I could barely lie to Damon for an hour (or eight) without feeling like crying with the guilt.

My phone buzzed from its place on the glass table, and did nothing to help with said guilt when I realised it wasn't Damon.

I'm not sure if it was just because I was feeling so guilty and keen to hear his voice, or because I couldn't come up with a good plan, but I decided to answer it.

For some insane reason, I decided to go with a comical greeting.

"_Y'ello?"_ I said brightly into the receiver, before having to furious fight the urge to kick myself in my own face. What was _that,_ Emma?

"You're not with Matt."

I swallowed a nervous rising in my throat before responding. Again, stupidly, I decided to be rude. "It's taken you eight hours to notice?" Oh god. Maybe it was just some defence mechanism or something.

Cameron looked at me like I was insane.

I heard Damon growl from the other end of the phone.

Yup.

_Growl._

I'll say one thing. If it was a defence mechanism that was making me take all my inner idiocy and verbalise it, then it wasn't doing a very good job on the 'defending' end of things. And from the sound of Damon's _growl_ it would probably have to start doing better.

And soon.

"Where are you?" Damon snarled.

I laughed nervously. "I'm sorry, Damon." I decided to just ignore the question, and instead move straight to the part where I tried to make amends.

Cameron's look got more frantic when I confirmed to him who it was I was talking to. Damon's disappearance from my life hadn't been something I shared with him totally, but in the year that I'd been away from him, Cam had clued in pretty quickly that it was a taboo subject for conversation. We left it out, ignoring the elephant in the room, except for the couple of nights that I drank too much of the alcohol that Lily got for us some times.

"Where are you?" Damon repeated the question, sounding, if possible, even more deadly serious.

Again, I went with deflection as a defence. "This is something I need to do by myself, alright?"

"Tell me, Emma, or I swear I'll track you down and never let you out of my sight again."

I swallowed thickly. That was a good sign, right? That he was still remotely interested in seeing me? Hopefully he didn't hate me more now, because I knew that I wasn't going to get him involved in this. Someone had put the vervain in my blood, after all, and I had strong suspicions about the amount of information that Lachie's pa had held back from us. Someone, in a powerful position, knew all about the weaknesses of vampires, and I wasn't about to let Damon get dragged into this.

"I can't Damon," I said, my voice suddenly as serious as his. I was quieter now, and for some reason, Cameron immediately moved. As though the atmosphere around me had gotten more personal, and Cam didn't want to intrude. Was it good or bad that Damon could do that to me from all the way out of state? "I won't bring you into this."

"Into _what?_" Damon snarled.

Again, I swallowed what felt like my heart as it crept into my throat. "There's some stuff that I need to sort out, alright? And as soon as I do, I'll come home—if you still want me there, that is, and if you haven't murdered me—but you have to let me do it."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "Don't be a moron," Damon then snapped. "Of course I want you home. Come home _now._"

I shook my head, even if he couldn't see me. He seemed to understand though, and sighed into the phone.

"I shouldn't have kissed you."

My heart stopped.

I swear to freaking Vishnu, the terror that coursed through me at that moment was the grand total of all the other fear I'd felt in my life, combined and multiplied. I froze, staring in horror at the blank wall of Cameron's small apartment.

"Damon, don't—" I protested immediately, but he was already going.

"This is my fault," he said. "I shouldn't have freaking scared you away."

The hyperventilation began to set in, but I willed it away as best I could. My heart was pounding in my chest—and not nearly in the lovely, loins getting warm kind of way from earlier, back at the mansion. No, this was that same horror, tearing at me.

Because this was it. The reason I'd been so reluctant to do anything about my juvenile feelings for him—or my feelings now, even after all this time. In my mind, there was something different about the way I felt for him now and back then—I'd grown up, and I'd lived without him for a bit—but this was still the big fear. Him knowing this—me and him messing our relationship up for some weird ploy for romance—could eventually be the thing that ruined us. And I couldn't have that. I couldn't have that responsibility. I loved him too much—not even in that way, although that was a part of it. Damon was more to me than just some school girl crush on an older guy that you could write off when it all fell apart. Damon was my rock, my best friend and my confidant. If we could figure out a way to add something more to that, then fine—but there was no way I was risking that for an ideal.

And there was no way that I was going to let him blame himself for this.

"No, Damon—stop." I ordered.

I could practically see Damon's eyes flash as I interrupted him, but he did as I'd asked and stopped verbally telling me how this was his fault. He didn't fall silent, all together, though. "No." He said angrily. "Either you give me a good explanation for why you've left, or you admit to me that we've fucked everything up. You need to be honest with me, Em. I deserve that much."

He did.

That and so much more, a part of me thought. And I couldn't possibly be what he deserved.

I didn't say that, though. This didn't need to be about him and I—this needed to be about why he shouldn't come looking for me. About why I needed to do this for myself.

"What you deserve, Damon—is less problems on your plate. You've got Elena to look out for now, and Klaus to worry about. And you've got to take care of Stefan, and Caroline—who, even though you dodged all the questions, I'm pretty convinced is a vampire. And, if everything goes to plan, then sure, soon you'll have me to worry about as well—but I'm not going to let all my problems become your problems." I said stoically, proud of my ability to express the thoughts.

Damon faltered, but was quickly fired up again.

"I should be able to help you with your problems," he said. "That's what I'm here for."

"Damon—you've known me a long time, and you've always looked after me. But there comes a point where I have to learn to look after myself—and that's what I've been doing all year. I've missed you like crazy, and it hurt like a mothertrucker," I didn't say 'trucker', "but I pulled through. It's not your duty to shoulder all of my problems."

"You belong with me, Em. I should be protecting you."

He was right. In so many ways I did belong with him. I felt happier around him, more at peace. Even if life around him was exciting and exhilarating, it made me feel alive. But Damon made me feel safe, and loved and wanted—and that was more than I could ask for. But now wasn't the time for that.

"Let me protect you, this time," I urged suddenly.

I was greeted by silence on the other end of the phone. Either Damon had undergone a major personality change and was willing to let me talk, or he couldn't think of anything to say. Hopefully it was the latter. So I ploughed on,

"I can do this Damon. It's something that I need to take care of. You've taken care of me my entire life—and now it's my turn to pay you back. Get us on an equal footing, if you like." I smiled a bit, and my own remark, hoping that Damon was smiling on the other end. "And once it's done, I'm going to come home. And we'll sort everything out."

'Sort everything out' was kind of a loaded idea, but it was all I could come up with. No one sentence covered all the stuff that Damon and I would have to talk about when I saw him again. We'd need to talk about my parents, and Katherine and what happened when he met me, and then about Lachlan and Lachlan's dad and the Fourth Initiative, and then we'd talk about Klaus, and Stefan and Elena and—god forbid—Caroline, if she really was a vampire. And then Matt, and Vikki and how she'd died—and everything and anything else that I'd missed in the time I'd spent away from him. He'd probably try to get me to go back to school, in Mystics Falls, most likely.

And once all of that was covered, and we'd talked about it all in excruciatingly clear detail—then maybe, just maybe, he and I could hope to come to some sort of conclusion regarding our kisses.

Because if they weren't just a mine field of mind fuckery, at its best, then I didn't know what was.

"You'll come back." Damon echoed.

I nodded my head firmly. "Always, dude. You won't be able to get rid of me."

There was a beat of silence. "I wouldn't want to," Damon said, and my stomach filled with a light, fluffy, bouncy feeling that made me smile.

I realised with a pang that this was the end of our conversation. Hearing his voice again had helped—had calmed the nerves that the task of finding Lachlan had brought out. It was nice to hear from him. He was a soothing presence, despite his volatile temperament.

I smiled fondly, smally, looking down at my feet and shuffling a little. "I'll see you soon, alright?" I said.

"You better," Damon growled. I was pulling the phone away from my ear, when I heard Damon continue talking and moved back. "Be careful," he was warning. "because if you die, I'll bring you back to life and kill you all over again for leaving."

I smiled slightly.

"Dude, if I die, I am so haunting your ass."

Damon chuckled darkly. "Em." He said warningly.

"I'll be careful," I reassured him. "I promise."

There was a pause. "Alright then," he finally said. "See you soon." And he hung up. Were it anyone else, I would have been annoyed by the abrupt end of the conversation, but I knew Damon was going to avoid the 'goodbye' part as much as I was. This wasn't good bye, after all.

I set the phone down and looked up, face set in lines of grim determination.

"Cam!" I called out, calling my friend back into the room. "We've got a plan to make, and a blonde moron to save. Time's a wastin!"

**.:.**

**A/N: **We have established that I am a terribly shitty person, right?

I AM SO SORRY GUYS. I just fell into a rut and lost ALL inspiration for this fic. I want to send another thanks to everyone who reviewed, and those people who guilt tripped me into sitting down and rereading everything I've written so far, to kick start my ass into gear. Especially those of you who come back and review, just to let me know I'm getting lazy. If it weren't for you guys, you wouldn't have gotten this chapter.

To those of you who are worried, though, no, I haven't abandoned this fic. I won't be abandoning this fic, and have every intention of eventually finishing it. It just might take me some time. I do have a clear outline of what's to come, and now a three month break from Uni in which to do it.

Keep reviewing and it'll keep me on my toes. Seriously, motivate me, guys. I have like seven WIPs to work on, and I need to have something that attaches me to each one.

Thank you for putting up with me and all my flakiness, and for being so dedicated to this story. I will honestly try harder to get another chapter up soon, and hopefully, finish it in the next three months.

**xx. **

PS. This is unbeta'd and there might be a couple of tense issues in the first half of the chapter. My bad, guys.


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